sonnet to ernest hemingway
It sunk ‘til it was small as a watch charm:
The Smith ‘n Wesson, your granddad’s glory
Lies eight hundred feet down from reach of arm,
Your dad misused it, won’t be your story.
After fishing the Irati River,
Before making Brett happy and careless,
With enough wine drank to fill a quiver,
Suicidal chaps jump into bull’s fence.
Catherine said death is just a dirty trick
Death was like saying good-bye to a statue
Rush bodily out of yourself and quick
Christ shoot me, O purest Mary please do.
Claimed to abstain death from your own finger.
Why did you surrender to the trigger?
Quatrain 1: For Whom the Bell Tolls, pg. 336-338
Quatrain 2: The Sun also Rises, pg. 117, 209, 200.
Quatrain 3: Farewell to Arms, pg. 342, 343, 57