Horatio’s in it now.
From fortified against their story
To believing in witches, fairies and ghosts
In part, though,
Only in part.
Which part is it, I wonder?
Ghosts, clearly, since he’s just seen one
And tried to charm it somehow –
But what else?
Is Horatio changing his religion as we watch?
From stoic to pagan
Or Atheist to Christian?
The disruption of logic in a logical world
Is more chaotic
Than chaos added to chaos.

This sentence doesn’t make much sense, Horatio.
Is he saying that what they just saw
Tested the hypothesis he just stated?
Sure is a funny way to say that, Horatio.
Are you a lawyer? Are you a scientist?
Well – you are an academic –
Maybe you get used to arcane syntax and using more words
Than necessary.
This present object? Are you referring to
The ghost?
Is he the present object?
Or the rooster?
Maybe I’m a little slow
But it seems like a funny time
To start talking like a lawyer.
Upon the disappearance of a ghost
That I didn’t believe in a few minutes ago,
I’m pretty sure I’d be pulling out the vowels
The Oh
The Wow
The Wha?
“And of the truth herein, this present object made probation?”
Come on.

Who is this god of day?
Does he hang with Phoebus Apollo
Or Ra in Egypt?
I picture him as bright and sunny,
Rubbing his godly great eyes
As the rooster crows,
Ready to rule over his dominion.
What does he do if he sees the dark spirits
Hanging around after a good night’s haunting?
Does he chase them into corners?
Reduce them to ash?
Make them writhe in agony of the brightness of the morning?
Luckily, it probably takes a little while
for the god of morning to roll over
the lip of his bed
into the full force of his power.
The tardy spirit may have a moment or two
To secret himself into the vanishing darkness.

Later in this play
Another king will start
Like a guilty thing
Upon a fearful summons.
Well, upon a play
Upon a theme.
This other king
Will echo the first
In more ways than one.
He will echo him
In love
In war
In craving revenge
Echoes upon echoes
Reverberating throughout
Starting and summoning.

What might it be like to refract one’s self, like a prism?
To break the light and reflect it
So as to be in one place
Then
So quickly,
The other.
Certainly I have felt split into pieces,
Not quite whole,
Not quite a self –
Just bits and bits.
But to be everywhere –
That’s the advantage of ghostliness.

Try and place the egg on its end.
Balance the curve of a shell.
Right a weighted weathered mannequin
Who leans ever to her side.
You can’t make it stay by wishing
You have to hover
Hold it in place
Build some struts or metal structure
To help it rest where it belongs.
You may need to dance a balancing dance
Meeting it from one side
Then the next.
In action on all sides to keep it still.