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September 13, 2013 | Poetry

You Just Got Boomed

Ben Gross

You Just Got Boomed photo

After S.S.

boom boom boom

you just got boomed

and I did it

I boomed you


you can call me the Boom Doctor

I have your emptied-out torso on the operating table

you are now living in a post-boom era, and

you want to assess the damages, but

seeing as you just got boomed, you no longer have the capacity to


your memory's composure, a trapdoor on a pirate ship

the pirates say "there's a traitor in our midst", and

massacre themselves, recognition overthrown

there fly your tall tales, away from you

far immeasurably away, a star behind a star behind a star


you want to put your finger on the source of the boom (me)

but your finger, split myriad from the tip, a limp squid hanging in the dark water

I'm sorry, did that hurt?

I didn't mean to hurt you, but

let's rewind the tape for old time's sake:


doom doom doom

I just got doomed

and you did it

you doomed me


take a look at those wondrous doom-magnets in action

ripping your wisdom teeth out while you try to make fun of the dentist through your sleep

your hypnotic calculator reciting the inanities of the sun

your language crawling through the bog, coated in cattails and mud


lost in the about-ness of it, submerged in the training room ice bath

your air bubbles floating up and popping at the surface like petty apologies

while I watch with absurd patience your death-defying approximation:

the invisible man, dressed in bandages that you unravel and wind yourself into


betraying me with your newness

you give me a bum (w)rap, make me look like a mistake

don't worry, shatter-eyes, your time will come

has come, is come


you can call me the Welcome Mat

you can call this the door

the wall between us goes boom, and

our heart fills the house


do you remember feeling vulnerable

when you thought you saw me coming, the

ancient, blurred look on my face?


I thought I saw a hollow look on yours

 

image: Ben Gross


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