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Perspective Poem Collection
A collection of poems written by third-year UC Davis Medical Students. Students were asked to read the following poem, take on a different perspective, and write a continuation of the poem.
Coats
I saw him leaving the hospital
with a woman's coat over his arm.
Clearly she would not need it.
The sunglasses he wore could not
conceal his wet face, his bafflement.
As if in mockery the day was fair,
and the air mild for December. All the same
he had zipped his own coat and tied
the hood under his chin, preparing
for irremediable cold.
By: Jane Kenyon
the man wearing the coat
Step, step, step. As though the weight unbearable to lift
for the weight of the news clouding my mind.
All I could do was stare at this coat and hug it close,
just hoping I could feel her body press against me once more.
Step, step, step.
I find a park bench where we used to sit in front of the pond.
Remembering all the lazy days staring at ducks feast and strangers pass by
as we drank our wine glasses and picnic under the warm summer sun.
The winter cold gusts through and I embrace the coat once more.
As I look down, I finally see drops fall as I remember our love.
By: Panda
My glasses obscure the sun’s rays
Like a thick veil upon my eyes, never to be lifted
Her coat still smells of her morning coffee
A hint of myrrh spiked with longing and sorrow
The red wine she spilled on herself last week so vibrant
My keys jingle in my pocket
My hands fumble trying to open the front door
As though they refuse to let me in alone
A cold draft blows past me as the door finally swings open
I walk in with her coat. Just me and my memories forever more.
By: Lamia Choudhury
the man's sunglasses
I shield you where I can but the sorrow cannot be corked.
I slip and fall, nearly off the bridge, but am wrenched back
To save you worries of prying eyes and passerby
Who check in, who ask, who wonder
Who is that woman whose coat rests,
Draped over and buried under
Back in the flat, you keep me on you
Because of my utility and my value
In curtaining the light
of the day that otherwise might
Remind you of her thunder
By: Amy Tan
the woman's coat
I saw him leaving the hospital
with a woman's coat over his arm.
Clearly she would not need it.
The sunglasses he wore could not
conceal his wet face, his bafflement.
As if in mockery the day was fair,
and the air mild for December. All the same
he had zipped his own coat and tied
the hood under his chin, preparing
for irremediable cold.
My body, draped over a familiar arm,
Taking me farther from the one who used to hold me
Who comforted me, who kept me warm
The arm and I, now left alone
prepare for the irremediable cold
By: Angela Nguyen
Where is she that I protected
From past chills and winters til
The warmth of spring made me null
While I watched her grow and live
A life of dreams yet fulfilled
Quiet sobs drop wet tears onto my sleeve
No longer does she need me
No longer will I store her warmth
But now I store their memories
Of those who love her still
By: Janani Ramesh
the woman (whose coat was taken)
My coat rests on his drooping shoulder. The heaviness
leaves me,
I no longer need it.
The breeze rushes under his hood, reminds him
to look into the fair sky.
Today the sun greets me,
even December daren’t put up a fight.
Today I am leaving in a yellow sundress, surrounded
by the warming embrace
of the light.
By: Harveen Kaur Sekhon
the mild December air
I had tried to be pleasant today, mild,
breezing along thin sweaters and bare skin.
Only to later pass by a man
With not one coat, but two.
One under which he was zipped up, hidden.
Another on his arm
As if the air felt colder there.
Like something that once kept it warm
was no longer there.
With tears down his face,
he cared not about the wind or air,
but rather about the storm
he was now forced to bear.
By: Sonia Puri
I tried my best to have mother nature
Lessen my flow on his face
As he used the woman’s coat
to cover his nose and take in her scent
For what seemed like the last time
The air as it was rang through his hood
As to keep his thoughts
from flowing too freely
He crouched into his car seat and placed her coat
next to him to feel her there
By: Samya Faiq
Watching the man brace himself for the journey ahead,
all I could offer was warmth I knew would never reach.
Shielding him from my breath that would race across his skin,
as sharp as a knife,
yet insignificant to the pain he harbored.
With each mild gust, he stared up with sorrowful eyes, as if I were the thief.
Removed from the pain of life, love, longing.
An observer, not a participant.
But as surely as life ends in death,
I too am bound by cycles, awaiting the warmth that engulfs me.
By: DK
I saw him leaving the hospital
with a woman's coat over his arm.
Clearly she would not need it.
The sunglasses he wore could not
conceal his wet face, his bafflement.
As if in mockery the day was fair,
and the air mild for December. All the same
he had zipped his own coat and tied
the hood under his chin, preparing
for irremediable cold.
The December clime as witness,
with 360 degrees of view, saw every angle.
Of his despair, of his anguish.
Our mildness was meant as comfort,
but was taken as ridicule.
Should I rain, should I snow?
When tears evaporate to join
The legion of our precipitation,
Is it more preferable to meet sorrow’s eyes,
Or to envision a warmer day?
By: Ian Joseph
the physician (taking care of the woman whose coat was taken)
Doors open. He leaves.
Alone this time.
I did my best, but was it enough?
Did I make the right choice?
Did I say the right thing?
A crisp, cool breeze fills the room as the doors swing shut.
A temporary respite from that stale hospital air.
Machines humming, people hurrying, pager beeping
No time, I'm sorry, the next person needs me
I hope my best is enough
By: Joshua Campista
the medical student (taking care of the woman whose coat was taken)
He stood frozen, shivering in the sunlight
Mute as a new mother crossed his path in a wheelchair, her joy so distant from his.
Tucked carefully behind my pillar, I watched.
I had seen him upstairs, and waited an extra minute to take the elevator.
Before that I had heard him wail, when he thought no one must be passing in the hallway --
And before that, had stood in the soft embrace of his ukulele
A sweet, sad lullaby we interrupted to do rounds.
I had caught her eye
And apologized silently, for that's all I could do --
And she had smiled back.
By: Allison Ong
the IV line (connected to the woman whose coat was taken)
I’m going in…
Through a quiescent river, I row
Laminar stream, then turbulent flow
The dilation of vessels cue my arrival
I am here, igniting your very revival
All instrumentation must abide by me,
For I am the one to set your hemodynamics free,
With time, I encompass the body, and command the ship,
I will cause heart murmurs to enhance with your handgrip,
Mind, body and spirit all in my essence,
My line keeps you aflow, with each drip, drip, drip.
By: Bobby Patel
Who is she?
She stares at me with pained, wet brimmed eyes
My sole purpose to bring peace
Yet I am an unwelcomed intruder
Here as long as I am held
Now there's something here with me
Does she notice? Does anyone notice?
I'm red and screaming into an abyss
Someone please take me away
An accomplice to her agony
Finally a familiar face points at me accusingly
They review me with a hurried gaze
Methodically taken away
I can breathe now, maybe she'll heal now
I am discarded too late
By: Veronica Davis-Girma
the Uber driver (driving the man wearing the coat)
I saw him enter the car
With a woman’s coat over his arm
Sweater zipped up to his chin
It was obvious where he had been
Her existence written across his face
A never drying reminder he could not erase
Echoing silence fill the crevices of the car
Songs of despair travelling near yet far
Shades masking yet not concealing
No words to help the healing
I fidget in my seat
Drop him off, nice and neat
By: Darshna Anigol
He shrank into the back seat as
if to blend in with the upholstery.
The only small talk today was bound
to be big talk. The air filled with soft jazz
And unspoken understanding.
I was easy on the gas, smoothly
traversing crowded city streets.
He too, was traveling, but where
I did not know. I left him at his street address,
unsure if it still felt like home.
By: Julia Goupil
What do you say when silence is impossibly loud?
What use are a strangers words offered up against the void.
Can I tell him that I know the bone-breaking weight
Of the phone in his hands, or how his home
Will feel as familiar and desolate as the moon?
Is too soon to say, it will not always be like this,
That eventually there will be bittersweet relief.
Does he know they are both gone and live on?
Will he discover her voice in the silence?
By: Joseph Bisoglio
the child of the man and woman
He walked in with Mommy’s coat over his arm
His eyes were red, maybe he was sick
He looked older than ever
This morning we had sat at the table together and Mommy put our toast in front of us
Normally I didn’t like it when she told me
“Finish your plate”
But today I did
His hair was wind-whipped
Or maybe he had just been pulling at it
I hadn’t seen Mommy since morning.
I hoped she would come home soon
By: Anonymous