Auguries for my once and future lover

I saw a West Virginia license plate outside the bookstore
where I'd come to find a book to teach me about love.
For a while, I didn't get out of the car. And I saw
a boy I'd only ever seen online effusing, gesticulating
to the air. Some secret conversation was had. His voice so
Wild & Wonderful. I saw the streetwear store
with all the new sneakers and the shirts that said something like Sporty & Rich
which you loved. I saw a great dane zigzagging its great head across the sidewalk,
blocking absolutely everyone. I saw a ribbon caught
in the updraft. Beyond the sidewalk, I saw mountains.
One time, before I knew you existed, I ate grilled cheese at this diner here
with the dark glass windows, which reflected (your eyes, which will see a meadow
on the mountain and know it a strip mine, see lilac growing in the dark crevices
of an armpit, see a voice trying to change) my hunger. It wasn't very good,
my grilled cheese. I sat in the driver's seat with the engine off
until the gray seats warmed and I sat for a while longer after that. I saw
a bicyclist. I saw a walker. I saw a drag queen strutting down the sidewalk
flaunting hearts on her tits and no tights,
swinging a jack-o'-lantern in February. I would have liked to look
like her in broad daylight. A wide mouth painted on plastic. Daylighting
as something that holds sweets. Something irreducible. Two heart-shaped pasties.
I took my foot off the break. I saw a grand opening, opening.

Based in Columbus, Ohio, Isaiah Yonah Back-Gaal is a queer poet, climate justice organizer, and drag performer. They are currently an MFA candidate in creative writing at The Ohio State University and Managing Editor for The Journal. Their work can be found in Seventh Wave, TIMBER, and the Cuyahoga Valley National Park Poetic Inventory and has received support from the Greater Columbus Arts Council. Their poetry has been nominated for Best of the Net.