What –
Come on now Barnardo
What’s going on?
This is all some joke right?
I mean, we’re crazy, right?
It’s a figment
Not a man
Not a king
Not the person we thought it was
Not a ghost
No no
It’s not possible
So it must be you, Barnardo
You who are crazy
You who saw the shadows come together into a man shaped cloud
You saw the air shift around the shape
The solid image of what we are sure we didn’t see
Of what could not be.

Shall I make a list?
I know I will forget someone.
When I needed an arm and a hand to hold, she offered one.
Today, that’s what she did. I could not begin to add up all the ways she hath relieved me in the past.
When I thought there was no tenderness on the earth for me – he relieved me, finds new ways to relieve me all the time. He fed me. How can it be recounted?
O mother
O father
O brother
Relief from the vast ocean of unknownness, each of you
Has pulled me, gasping from the salt water
Cousin, friend, teacher, stranger, shopkeeper, you
All have given your moments of relief
My list is long
Your deeds, large and small, sometimes forgotten, but always appreciated.

Such finality for the end of a shift –
No sense of “Fish biting?” “Nope” or
“Have a good one.” Or “Take care.”
No, as Francisco goes to bed
Marcellus seems as if he’s sending him on a voyage
Across oceans for months
Or into the depths of the ocean for his final tour of duty
In Davy Jones’ locker.
Thanks for all your hard work, Francisco,
For the enemy ranks you have laid open with your blade
For standing guard over the Danes
For filling your uniform with the softness of your body
And holding it all straight.
O, we do not know what your next adventure will be
But we crash our bottle against the hull of your boat
And send you out into the darkness.