A poem written to honor Dr. Arthur Smith (1948-2018). Smith was a mentor to thousands of UT students and an award-winning poet who taught at UT for more than three decades.
By Marilyn Kallet
Last Words
“Whoa Nellie!” was the subject line
of your last email,
asking me to take your classes.
“I’ll be in hospital, five days.”
“Acute leukemia,” you wrote,
apologized for
distrupting my retirement.
Five days, sure, I said.
Your students cried
when I told them you
were stuck at Park West.
We were writing love poems
to you at the hour
you died.
Our starter line: “Art,
You can’t hear me, but…”
“Thank you for listening
when no one else did.
You can’t hear me, but
my poems will thank you
for the rest of my life,”
your students wrote.
You can’t hear me,
but I miss you.
You and I weren’t always friends.
When your sister died
we grew closer.
When we read together
at Vanderbilt,
you said you were scared.
You’ll be great! I assured.
You were perfect,
understated, funny,
showed what poetry and its poet
could be.
“I am no longer frightened
When I think of the scene
without me,” you wrote.
“Children, squalling, and in my seat,
someone else.”
Whoa, Nellie!
We’re saving that seat,
my friend,
don’t go!