Robert M. Simmons  

from Morning in Middleborough... (Poems 1991-2006)   

            Saint Sebastian at Harry’s Diner

Somewhere in the aether bells ring

angels on duty signaling

of an event with overtones

in the low world of flesh and bones,

at Harry’s Diner to be clear,

requiring their presence near.

Seraphim with golden locks

above the Wurlitzer juke box

sing sweetly of eternal truths

to those at counters and at booths,

preparing all for what awaits

as waitresses serve cups and plates,

while in the kitchen Harry bakes

apple pies and chocolate cakes.

Is that van Dyck waiting to dine

sketching as he lingers in line?

when enters a malnourished lad

in black leather and denim clad,

his slender person pierced as though

he was the target of a bow.

Every portion of flesh in view

has something pointed sticking through.

His brow, his nose, his tongue, his ears,

have all been stuck with tiny spears,

and there are spots we can suppose,

discretely covered by his clothes.

The final feature of this fellow,

his hair is spiked and colored yellow.

Both staff and customers delight

in seeing such a precious sight,

as if the circus raised its tent,

and they were at the main event.

In time a crowd collects to stare,

including angels everywhere,

making a ruckus seldom seen

at Harry’s place of fine cuisine.

Even van Dyck with his sketchbook,

comes close enough to take a look.

Harry by now you must have heard

is not the type to mince a word.

He leaves the kitchen with food cooking

to see at what the crowd is looking.

Upon viewing the grand attraction

he pauses, then gives his reaction.

Says Harry to the gathered mob,

"Roast him, and we’ll have shish kebob!"

This comment as you might conclude

brings laughter from the multitude,

but now van Dyck runs out the door

dropping his sketchbook on the floor.

The lad sits down and orders tea

not knowing of the comedy,

and it of course is safe to say

no miracle will come today.

Gathering up their harps and things

while warming up their gilded wings,

angels attired in robes of white

prepare themselves for rapid flight,

soaring to heights where air is finer

in puffy clouds above the diner,

beyond the reach of Harry’s arm,

since this was just a false alarm.

                             © 2003 by Robert M. Simmons

Note.  Most artistic renderings of Saint Sebastian show him pierced with multiple arrows after his execution by the Roman emperor Diocletian for converting to Christianity.  Van Dyck, however, painted him before the archers had carried out their orders; hence there are no arrows piercing his body.  In "Saint Sebastian at Harry's Diner," van Dyck has returned briefly to the world of mortal men seeking inspiration for a more conventional rendering of one of his favorite subjects.

Paintings of Saint Sebastian by Pedro González Berruguete and Anthony van Dyck

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Subjects: poems about, body-piercing, junk culture, small town life, Saint Sebastian, Anthony van Dyck, satire, poetry, poems

   Saint Sebastian at Harry's Diner