From cbd5199529209059be3bde0d6572a1ba192b84d3 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001
From: Case Duckworth
Date: Wed, 28 Jan 2015 22:22:15 -0700
Subject: Add Elegies; template; pandoc compile script

---
 44-deathstrumpet.txt | 32 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
 1 file changed, 32 insertions(+)
 create mode 100644 44-deathstrumpet.txt

(limited to '44-deathstrumpet.txt')

diff --git a/44-deathstrumpet.txt b/44-deathstrumpet.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c549c78
--- /dev/null
+++ b/44-deathstrumpet.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,32 @@
+---
+title: 'Death's Trumpet'
+project: 'Elegies for Alternate Selves'
+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 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.
-- 
cgit 1.4.1-21-gabe81