Saint Francis in Ecstasy – a poem by Paul Willis

Saint Francis in Ecstasy

						after Caravaggio


The angel looks tenderly interested—
uncommonly so—in the sacked-out figure
of Francis gently supported in his arms.

Or maybe he is just patiently waiting 
for this mortal to wake from his spiritual coma
so that he can depart on yet another appointed round—

rescuing the next pope from his cardinal sins
or plucking a child from a deep canal
outside a doorstep in Venice.

In any case, Francis' dark-haired, bearded head
lolls back in the swaddled lap of the divine messenger,
who in this instance has nothing to say,

Francis being, as he is, beyond sight or hearing
or sensation.  And that rough brown robe of the earthy 
saint, tied at the waist with a simple cord,

must be scratching those perfectly formed angelic thighs 
in a most uncomfortable way.  Forbearance,
though, is a heavenly virtue which shines in the light

like the bare shoulder of this visitor with the exquisite
bedside manner—the same shoulder that somehow sprouts,
from the back of the scapula, a dusky wing.

Paul Willis has published eight collections of poetry, the most recent of which are Somewhere to Follow (Slant, 2021) and Losing Streak (Kelsay Books, 2024). Individual poems have appeared in Poetry, Christian Century, Southern Poetry Review, and the Best American Poetry series. He is an emeritus professor of English at Westmont College and a former poet laureate of Santa Barbara, California, where he lives with his wife, Sharon, near the Old Mission.