Poetry, because of its mutability on the page, is a fascinating medium for simulating the dialogues we have that reflect our mental states. The non sequitur, although not a specifically poetic writing device, is often exploited especially effectively in verse to evoke the restless mind via its jumpy enjambment and juxtaposition. This emotion-mirroring capacity of poetry is perhaps why it is frequently used in therapeutic writing settings, such as poetry therapy and journaling. In “Over Breakfast,” we see the anxious mind at work in conversation—or perhaps more of a dramatic monologue—between 2 friends meeting in the wake of one’s recent cancer diagnosis. The rapid-fire, largely unpunctuated lines, most of which are initiated by “Says,” convey the agitation the speaker’s friend contends with as she narrates a response to her threatened health—with the second line “Says she was nervous before last Friday’s appointment” actually making it explicit. The breathless insistence on speaking, and the repetition itself, feel like an attempt by both interlocutors to manage the anxiety. The scatterbrained asides, from the daughter’s sternly telling her mother to slow down to the Golden Gate Bridge to “Says insurance/Says emptiness,” only heighten the sense of the friend’s disconnection and volatile mood. Yet the stunning turn of the final line, perhaps the most blatant and ironic non sequitur of the entire poem, dramatically underscores that all the distractions and jitteriness are ultimately a grasping at peace, and hope, amidst inchoate fears.
Physicians ought to be skilled communicators, given the importance of the information necessary to convey to patients and their loved ones regarding the diagnosis and treatment of health conditions. Effective communication is associated with greater patient satisfaction and better health outcomes. Yet many clinicians are notorious for using too much jargon, interrupting frequently and redirecting, expressing harmful biases, and using closed-ended questions in encounters with patients. Might poetry, and especially its concision, be helpful in improving patient-physician communication? “Triple Bypass” is a poem so concise that it might at first glance seem inconsequential. Yet a close reading shows just how much can be communicated, and how seamlessly, using few and familiar words. The title of the poem is as clinical as the language gets, so the poem is easily accessible despite the gravity of the medical condition invoked; moreover, the clever contrast between the complexity of open heart surgery and the ostensible simplicity of the poem is telling, as it yields an important insight into how much information it might be possible to assimilate in such worrying scenarios. Another important ingredient for meaningful communication, empathy, is also subtly depicted here, in the familiarity and trust of “elbows quietly touching” in another contrast, this time with the all-consuming, interminably expressive technology of cellphones. “Brevity is the soul of wit,” Shakespeare famously wrote in Hamlet; perhaps poetry can remind us that sometimes saying less, and choosing our words carefully, can convey much more than we might realize.
