Finish linking Elegy, Hezekiah; Rename files

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-title: 'Death's Trumpet'
-project: 'Elegies for Alternate Selves'
-project-order: 43
-genre: 'verse'
-
-epigraph: 'So Death plays his little fucking trumpet.  So what, says the boy.'
-epigraph-credit: 'Larry Levis'
-...
-
-He didn't have any polish so he spit-shined the whole thing, \
-top to bottom.  It gleamed like maybe a tomato on the vine \
-begging to be picked and thrown on some caprese.  Death loved caprese.
-
-He stood up and put the horn to his lips, imagining \
-it was a woman he loved.  He blushed as he realized \
-it was a terrible metaphor.  \
-He practiced for six hours a day---what else to do?
-
-Death looks at [himself in the mirror][moongone] as he plays.  \
-The trumpet is suspended in midair.  Damn vampire rules.  \
-Death is always worried he might have missed a spot shaving \
-but he'll never know unless a stranger is polite enough.  \
-Not that he ever goes out or meets anyone.
-
-He wakes up late these days.  Stays in bed later.  \
-He thinks he might be depressed.  The caprese has gotten soggy \
-since he made it, maybe three days ago or maybe just two.  \
-The sun streams through his kitchen blinds like smoke.  \
-He decides to go to the arcade.  When he gets there,
-
-there's only a [little boy][] with dead eyes.  So far so good.  \
-He's playing a first-person shooter.  Death walks past him \
-and watches out of the corner of his eye.  The kid's good.  \
-Death wants to congratulate him.  His trumpet is in his hand.
-
-[moongone]: moongone.html
-[little boy]: angeltoabraham.html