The Old Math
Out of the East on stolen wings they came,
innocent of pity.
they slit the air with hate keener than box cutters,
fell on unsuspecting prey,
then on its twin some minutes later.
They'd got it wrong,
of course -- the direct access into Paradise.
By another reckoning,
souls in their hundreds leapt up to God as one,
leaving a hole in the morning sky,
in a thousand thousand hearts.
By Carol M Catt
from Selected Poems
HT to VirtueOnline