the jewels drop from her robe,
but she picks them up fast
the light flashing with strobe
picking up nothing that will last,
her discretion, a mirage of chastity.
a canon fires a shot at the mast,
she runs to sea searching for brevity
and finding nothing, uses her blow
the captain sees and ignores in piety.
the pirates arrive in a flow
their ears pierced at the lobe
stealing what’s left of her snow.