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| 1 | --- | ||
| 2 | title: "Death's trumpet" | ||
| 3 | genre: verse | ||
| 4 | |||
| 5 | id: deathstrumpet | ||
| 6 | toc: "Death's trumpet" | ||
| 7 | |||
| 8 | project: | ||
| 9 | title: Elegies for alternate selves | ||
| 10 | class: elegies | ||
| 11 | order: 28 | ||
| 12 | prev: | ||
| 13 | title: 'To Daniel: an elaboration' | ||
| 14 | link: todaniel | ||
| 15 | |||
| 16 | epigraph: | ||
| 17 | content: | | ||
| 18 | So Death plays his little fucking trumpet. | ||
| 19 | So what, says the boy. | ||
| 20 | attrib: Larry Levis | ||
| 21 | link: "http://michaelduke.org/2014/07/20/larry-levis-boy-in-video-arcade/" | ||
| 22 | ... | ||
| 23 | |||
| 24 | | He didn't have any polish so he spit-shined the whole thing | ||
| 25 | | until it gleamed like a [tomato on the vine][] that was begging | ||
| 26 | | to be picked and thrown on some caprese. Death loved caprese. | ||
| 27 | |||
| 28 | | He stood up to put the horn to his lips, trying to imagine | ||
| 29 | | it was a woman he loved. He blushed as he realized how bad | ||
| 30 | | [the metaphor was][]. He practiced anyway for six hours a day | ||
| 31 | | in front of the mirror---what else to do with all the time? | ||
| 32 | |||
| 33 | | Death looked at [himself in the mirror][] as he played, the trumpet | ||
| 34 | | suspended in midair. _Damn vampire rules_, he thought. | ||
| 35 | | He was always worried he might have [missed a spot][] while shaving | ||
| 36 | | but he'd never know unless a stranger---he had no friends--- | ||
| 37 | | was kind enough. Not that he goes out anyway or meets people. | ||
| 38 | |||
| 39 | | He started waking up late, staying in bed later. | ||
| 40 | | He started thinking he was depressed. He never did eat | ||
| 41 | | that caprese, and it started getting soggy, green spots | ||
| 42 | | spreading on the mozzarella like bedsores. The sun | ||
| 43 | | filtered through the [kitchen blinds like smoke][]. He had | ||
| 44 | | to get out of the house. He decided to go to the arcade. | ||
| 45 | |||
| 46 | | When he got there, it was empty except for a boy | ||
| 47 | | [with dead eyes][]. So far so good, Death thought. | ||
| 48 | | He was playing a first-person shooter, something violent. | ||
| 49 | | Death walked past him and watched out of the corner | ||
| 50 | | of his eye. The kid was good. Death decided | ||
| 51 | | to congratulate him. He had his trumpet in his hand. | ||
| 52 | |||
| 53 | [himself in the mirror]: moongone.html | ||
| 54 | [with dead eyes]: big-dipper.html | ||
| 55 | [tomato on the vine]: wallpaper.html | ||
| 56 | [the metaphor was]: leaf.html | ||
| 57 | [missed a spot]: january.html | ||
| 58 | [kitchen blinds like smoke]: what-we-are-made-of.html | ||