HAMLET OFF-STAGE: St. Oh
We actors aren't actors, we're puppeteers
pulling more strings than bikini salesmen,
Claudius pulling mine, me his, etc,
him crotch romping, me waltzing on hot coals.
We've only one true puppet, Ophelia.
She's our blank emptiness, St. Amnesia,
who can't decide whether she's fish or fowl:
fowl when she flies up and sings on a limb,
fish when it breaks, and she forgets to swim.