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Yale-果冻影院 Poetry Competition winners announced

4 February 2021

This year鈥檚 Yale-果冻影院 university poetry competition provided a powerful platform for students of medicine and other disciplines to share their reflections on Covid-19.

Competition finalists headshots

Themes of hope and resilience came through strongly, alongside death, loss and issues of race and identity.听

Winning entries in the competition, now in its tenth year, were announced at a virtual event attended by students, poets, writers and guests from both sides of the Atlantic, including Nobel Prize winning biochemist and cell biologist Professor James Rothman. 听

For the last decade, the听competition has given medical students the chance to use their creativity to explore uniquely insightful reflections on their experiences and training. 听

First place in the competition for students of medicine and allied disciplines was 础蹿迟别谤听Closing the Cadaver听by Anna Vignola.听Anna, 30, a Yale Physician Assistant student from Los Angeles, who has written since childhood. 听

The poem, which judges described as a 鈥榯iny masterpiece鈥, stemmed from a quiet moment after spending hours in a lab, a moment of savouring the joy and relief of being alive - which Anna says she has clung to during the Coronavirus pandemic.听

She said:听鈥淚 think science is poetry and poetry is science, especially in medicine, which is such a creative field. We bring life into the world and then see people through to death, what could be more poetic?鈥澨

Runner up in this category was Sarah Wong, 25, a final year medical student at 果冻影院. Her poem听Housecleaning, which is about different forms of loss,was praised by the judges for its simplicity and profundity. 听

Sarah, who moved to London to study medicine from her home in Singapore, was also named the winner in the 鈥榦pen鈥 category, for her poem听if not now 鈥撎when?,听which describesher reflections on the pandemic and Black Lives Matter.听听

She听described this poem as听an attempt to connect with the global situation where inequalities and disparities are so stark. 鈥It鈥檚 about how much we rely on each other and also about the needless deaths we inflict on each other, and 鈥榓ll that we have taken from each other鈥欌.

Runner up in the 鈥榦pen鈥 category was听Fibrotic, a poem created in a single column of text by disabled poet Jamie Hale, which judges commended for 鈥榰sing form beautifully鈥.听

Jamie, 29, who is studying for an MA in Politics, Philosophy and Economics of Health at 果冻影院, said: 鈥淎s I began to use non-invasive ventilation to support my breathing at night, I was struck by the idea that, like a tree, I stored carbon dioxide at night, and wanted to consider that image. The disabled body is so often posed as unnatural that I wanted to explore it amongst deeply natural images and shapes. It was important to me that I explore these images without leaning into pity or sympathy - just difference.鈥櫶

The poetry competition was born out of the Yale-果冻影院 Collaborative, which fosters partnerships in the biomedical sciences and engineering, and has influenced the study of social sciences, humanities, law and architecture at the two universities as well as facilitating student and staff exchanges. It aims to increase the quality of creativity in the two universities; to inspire, nurture and promote the humanities within medical education and give students an outlet for creative expression.听

The award celebrations were hosted by Professor Stella Bruzzi, Dean of 果冻影院 Arts and Humanities and 果冻影院 medical student Jenny He, who organised this year鈥檚 competition in between working shifts in the intensive care unit at University College Hospital.听

The judging panel comprised poet, playwright and journalist Clare Pollard and poet, paediatrician and writer Dr听Ir猫ne P. Mathieu. The Winners were awarded 拢1000 ($1370) each and runners up 拢500 ($685).听The event is sponsored by Mintoo Bhandari and Vinni Nahata Bhandari.听

Celeberating and exchanging thoughts on poetry with the winning students were judges Clare Pollard and Dr听Ir猫ne P. Mathieu,听果冻影院 Professor in Cardiovascular Medicine John Martin who, as co-director of the Yale 果冻影院 Collaborative, launched the first competition in February 2011听

Other guests included Yale鈥檚听Nobel Prize winning biochemist and cell biologist Professor James Rothman, 果冻影院 Associate Professor of European Thought and Culture听Tim听Beasley-Murray,听Yale Professor Anna Reisman MD, who is the Director of Yale鈥檚 Program for Humanities in Medicine and Director of Yale Internal Medicine Residency Writers鈥 Workshop,听previous sponsor and New Yorker columnist Mark Singer and current sponsors听Mintoo and Vinni Nahata Bhandari, who have generously secured the future of the competition.听

This year鈥檚 winning poems, along with the judges鈥 citations, are reproduced below, with kind permission from the authors.听

Closed Competition Winner - Anna Vignola (Yale School of Medicine)听

After Closing the Cadaver听

I come home

to admire the contours

of a chest rising

and falling

in sleep

the shock

of warm skin

as I crawl to him sinking

into the sweetness

and guilt of being

alive

Judges鈥 comments:听

It is hard to write a short poem well but this is a tiny masterpiece 鈥 no word is wasted, with the title itself part of this single perfect sentence. There is such shock and dissonance encapsulated in the way we move from the professional language of 鈥榗losing the cadaver鈥 in the title to being, just a moment later, 鈥榟ome鈥, and asked to look upon a beloved living body; to enjoy this precious life. The difficulty and guilt the speaker experiences in making this shift is movingly conveyed.听

Closed Competition Runner-Up -听Sarah Wong (果冻影院 Medicine)听

Housecleaning听

Can I speak plainly of loss:

the casting out,

the breathing in,

the silent withdrawal

from life it brings;

the shadow it returns

to common things:

ticket stubs and

birthday cards in a box

you never thought

you鈥檇 throw out,

because you were

always the sentimental

sort and that was听

the kind of thing

you did for the

memories, because

they were all that

moments left behind

in their passing,

those tangible

moments that held in

their skin a sense

of being on their way

to somewhere

and that sense was all

you needed, once,

before you learnt

that was not enough

to make a life

and everything just

started to take up

too much space.

Judges鈥 comments:听

Can I speak plainly of loss鈥? the poem begins. It is such a powerful start to this outpouring of grief told in short, self-deprecating, sobbing lines by a speaker who has 鈥 until now 鈥 kept this sorrow to themselves, as they mourn the loss of those moments 鈥榯hat held in their skin a sense of being on their way to somewhere鈥. In simple, ordinary language it is a poem that asks the big question of what it all means.听

Open Competition Winner -听Sarah Wong (果冻影院 Medicine)听

if not now 鈥 when?听

february听

when you run fresh into the opening听

of spring, you become witness to the听

thawing of death 鈥 as the life-breath it听

encases grows warm, trickles down onto听

young grass, and tickles it with dew听

march听

it is not uncommon to fall in love听

amidst rows of shelves stocked to the听

brim with desire 鈥 but caught between听

naked aisles, we find our need exposed听

and in shame, we forget to be kind听

april听

seething, life has worn itself soft,听

silent, small to take the shape of these听

four walls; breathing is easier 鈥 even with听

all we have stolen from it, the earth gives听

us air cleaner than we鈥檝e ever known听

may听

all we have taken from each other听

(do we see it now?)听decorate the spaces听

we鈥檝e built for living 鈥 yes, we hoard far听

more than survival demands but hey,听

who can afford guilt in a crisis?听

june听

now we cannot unknow them, the faces听

whose last memory of this world was听

hate and their last words a plea 鈥 all the听

violence we鈥檝e听but some lives听caused with听

our silence听matter more,听do we see it now?听

Judges鈥 comments:听

This has the feel of a pillowbook or journal; there is something haiku-like in the attempt to capture the recurring seasons of the past year even as history pours through the verses. Like Eliot鈥檚 line 鈥楢pril is the cruellest month鈥 - much quoted last spring - the poet has captured the horror of new life mingling with disease in the image of death 鈥榯hawing鈥 and trickling through a 鈥榮eething鈥 April. I was moved by the way the poet moves through many of the universal experiences of this year 鈥 the 鈥榥aked aisles鈥; the sense of life听having worn 鈥榠tself soft, silent, small鈥; the growing political anger, whilst always describing it with freshness, swerving the already-cliches.

Open Competition Runner-Up - Jamie Hale (果冻影院 Arts & Humanities)听

FIBROTIC听

Fibrosis n: the thickening and scarring of connective tissue, usually after an injury听

If you graft orange buds onto a lemon听

tree,听

they grow together - a salad tree of听

sharpness and sugar - or the bud dies.听

Connecting two incompatible things is听

harder than you would think - the body听

knows this; the trees told me the same.听

Maybe while I slept, a tree was grafted听

onto me. My rootstock rots; Necrotic听

buds flower from my heel. Sometimes听

lightening splits a tree hollow like a听

cave, but it still grows spindly branches.听

Nobody told it it was broken or maybe it听

always knew. Both are possible - hollow听

things grow strangely. And yet we grow.听

Trauma changes our genetic sequence. I听

am fibrosed. My muscles become听

woody. Trees grow thicker year on year.听

I thin. But I have roots. My legs are trees,听

leech nutrients? No. Drain poison. The听

puckering sharpness of crabapple before听

it's boiled with endless sugar. Sour fruit听

brings a longer harvest, grafted to an听

apple tree, but do not try to eat them听

whole. The cold splinters my branches,听

cracks appear in my skin. I swapped听

transient legs for permanent bark. A tree听

doesn't travel. It doesn't need to; it knows听

the forest, sends signals beneath the听

floor. Swaps breadth for depth. Trees听

whisper at night. People don't notice. I've听

been blessed with ears that hear voices听

that others don't. Or do they miss voices听

that others hear? The grafted tree is听

neither one nor another; nor is it both.听

Maybe I just dreamed I was a tree. But I听

store carbon dioxide at night. Or I did.听

The machine breathes for me now.听

Judges鈥 comments:听

This uses form beautifully 鈥 it is a thick trunk of a poem 鈥 and brilliantly sustains its conceit, linking the thickening and scarring of bodily tissue to the process of grafting fruit trees. 鈥楥onnecting two incompatible things is harder than you would think鈥 the poem tells us, but it manages to do just that with wit and grace. The speaker, like Daphne in myth, is changed into a tree through trauma, but finds that also means to 鈥榮wap breadth for depth鈥, to tune into a new and different language.听

Links

Image

Left to right: Jamie Hale (photo - Camilla Greenwall, Wellcome Trust), Anna Vignoble, Sarah Wong

Media contact

Jane Bolger

T: +44 (0)20 3108 9040

E: j.bolger [at] ucl.ac.uk听