To the Author of My Epitaph by Krikor N. Der Hohannesian

TO THE AUTHOR OF MY EPITAPH
by Krikor N. Der Hohannesian

Hanging helter-skelter in the closet
a favorite cardigan, color of plum
frayed at the elbows, wide-wale corduroys
worn smooth at the knees…

these are the clothes I wore

My guitar, coffined,
lies on the floor, the metronome
tick-tocks silent rhythms. Sheets of Sanz,
Giuliani, Calatuyud…


this is the music I played

One Hundred Years of Solitude,
The Plague, Paradise,
A History of Armenia, The Fall,
Beloved, The Spark of Life…


these are the books I read

and don’t forget to check the shelves,
the dog-eared journals veneered with dust-


in some you’ll find my name

How long does the spirit linger
like dust motes dancing
in cones of sunlight
before it is all forgotten?

Reincarnation?

a black cat, sleek,
amber-eyed
purring for eternity.