By Christopher Fettes
I think about you often,
My former teacher.
You died while I was
In graduate school.
I read updates about your
Condition when I should
Have been writing essays
For my spring classes
A year before you passed,
Which was days before I graduated.
I remember sitting on your couch,
Discussing my poetry and goals.
You might have been my advisor then,
So long has it been since I thought of that.
I wanted to reach out when
I learned you were sick,
But I never did. I think about
That failure, too.
You frustrated your students,
But you charmed me –
You were kinder and funnier
Than others would have said.
I think about you, and those
Who die of diseases
We don’t yet understand
On days like this
When I received a shot
For a new virus,
And yet we have no answers
For so many diseases.
If any word echoes across
Time and this world and whatever
Comes after it, I hope
Somehow you hear me
And know I think of you,
Especially when I write.
Chris Fettes teaches the College of Public Health Writing Workshop and is poetry section chief for Medicine and Meaning. His work has been published in Slant, Nude Bruce Review, and prior issues of Medicine and Meaning.