Balancing on the head of a pin
They twirl, they whirl, they frolic, they bow
Twenty-nine angels without any sin.
reverent clergy made such a row
To solve this pious polemic
More weighty than witches and heretics foul.
sense and import than problems endemic:
How many angels could dance without falling?
The query liturgically famed and totemic.
faithful rose up to answer the calling
The saintly enigma aroused such a ruckus
(Truth is that the common folk feared a mean mauling.)
to the dungeon they´d just as soon truck us.
Embrace this dilemma no matter how dumb.
This is the Dark Ages. They´d just as soon you-know-what-us."
doubt was debated with chaste bumbledom
Believing Aquinas had poised the good question
But was Martin Scriblerus who penned this sweet thrum.
Martin was many amid the profession
Enlightment satirists all signed his name
Metaphysical fine points in burlesque expression.
Tom was sincere in his Summa´s great claim
To ponder God´s secrets with flair and pure reason
His treatises are tortured, his opus misnamed.
angels are giggling, they´ve had a fine season
They dance without jostling where
ever they wish
On earth, on a pin, on points geodesian
They think we´re all pinheads with this silly gibberish.
2006 Patricia Jane St. John Danko