Misused

By Riley Anspaugh

photo by William Santos on Pexels

The word “albeit”
has been in my mouth all day,
rolling on my tongue
like a Gobstopper. The sun
is warm, albeit slowly self-destructing.
Hummingbirds are beautiful,
albeit too fast to see. I’m in love
with this girl, albeit
she never looks at me.
I’m stuck using albeit
in all my sentences,
albeit I don’t believe
I’m using it correctly.
I mean, when is the last
time you ate a good meal
off a dangling chandelier?
When will we drive
the stove to work? Do
helicopters make
good pets? (Imagine
all those blades
when they’re hungry.)
Will the doorknob
teach me to dance
or tell me stories
I’ll never hear
again? Have the stars
decided to share
their secret
recipes yet? Or will
we have to wait
for the book?
Type away
on the alligator
skin boots you bought.
Juggle a dozen
papercuts. Breathe in
your lover’s nightmare
and keep them safe
for a minute or two.
Dazzle us, God,
with your empty hands
and let the clouds
teach hearts
all about arrhythmia.
Doctors thrown
in the trunk
like lawn chairs. Beer
meant for flying.
Underwear
for soiling.
Poems we
wanna read.
Heaven worth
pennies. Love
at the bottom
of everything.

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