Dancing During Wartime

I chose something smaller —

The point of a pin,

Not its head.

I do my jig upon it —

My dance of life

And avoid my Achilles' heel.

Flesh can be penetrated

By the density of a point,

But immortals revel there, impermeable.

It is true, we angels exist preternatural,

Contraphasic, and irrelevant

To the laws of worldly physics.

In the times when all is fair,

All other considerations fall notches

In timeliness.

And the sages argue how many —

How many of us — can dance

On this acicular precipice,

While Constantinople

Falls to the Turks! But — praise the Lord:

Our angel-counting is accurate.