Hornpipe (or, The Byzantine Mezzanine Mis-en-scène)

Quartermaster Quatremaine,
      peering from his prison in the
            middle of the mizzen-mast,
Thought he saw a pretty little
      Byzantine
            mezzanine
Where Matilda, melancholy,
      Languished in the candlelight,
            playing on her fortepiano
                  music that the Quartermaster
                        really couldn’t recognize.

Soon she set to sipping from a
      bottle in her reticule
            (medicine her mother gave her
                  daily for her dysentery)
Then onto the mezzanine
      crept a
            trape-
                  zoidal
                        VOID…

Miss Matilda fought a bitter battle, but expired —
Expunged by the feral quadrilateral.


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