Dave Bonta's short poem starts with a blunt, slightly unsettling idea: nature gives us teeth, and the poem links them to three kinds of wanting. Teeth for flesh is plain survival. Teeth for teeth suggests conflict, creatures biting back at each other. Teeth for love brings in kissing, nibbling, and the hungry side of desire. Appetite, the poem implies, runs through all of it.
Then the mood shifts. The "white horses / going and coming" could be waves breaking on a shore, or they might be the teeth themselves, flashing as mouths open and close. Either way, the image brings a steady rhythm, something that keeps returning. The last stanza turns quietly humble. Joy is a distance that can be shortened, not reached all at once, and one way to do it is "the odd scotch." The speaker seems wry and self-aware, admitting that our big cravings end up satisfied by small comforts. The tone is calm, a little amused, and honest.