Had Hamlet ever told him anything,
delivered on his northwest promising:
O I could tell you, could-could-tell you ...
A ghosting father's verbal tic, this passing
over immanence unfolding in a
word (no matter), Horatio might well
have set his cause aright.
as it fell out
he mouthed a verse so blank no one could hear,
drenched in fusillade and sennet.
elide the breach between the being
and the seeming soldier's funeral-a
put-on, passing mute. Promising to speak
the how of things unnatural, Horatio
no doubt misprized the passing soul.