Dear Sir, I was this morning straight
after the news and forecast
hanging from an old appletree in my garden
a small Japanese bell
when I received through the post your importunate
and quite misguided threats
 
and in this regard time shall be made of the essence
 
An injunction, you say. An obstruction,
you say. You’ve a lot of chat for someone
that’s not even clear who he’s talking to.
Does this help: not only have I
not erected any obstruction
in the form of a barbed wire fence or otherwise
 
and in this regard time shall be made of the essence
 
but I’m attempting today to rest and recover
from the effects of an obstruction in my own passages?
I have, it pains me to have to spit it out, a strangury,
and you’ve got the wrong man, chief,
I’ve better blockages to worry about
than the one at the back of some godforsaken hotel in Midleton
 
and in this regard time shall be made of the essence
 
What’s more, my bell is mute.
The inscribed slip that made its tongue
chime in the wind, flew off. It’s not my day.
Far from putting up barbed wire fences,
I’d prefer, right now, to see one of those bright Byzantine
Christs come striding across from the opposite hills
 
and in this regard time shall be made of the essence
 
fresh from baptizing Adam, vast and very masterful,
lugging a patriarch along with each arm no doubt
from some new-harrowed hell
and scattering from his feet a fine debris
of locks, bolts, spancels, cuffs, gyves, fetters, stocks,
and other miscellaneous hindrances
 
and in this regard time shall be made of the essence
 
And what would our Neighbourhood Watch do then?
Put the polis on his tail, stay home, and watch that hooligan
as he’d come, breaking contracts, flattening fences
and leaving gates and prisons open behind him.
Yes, he’s the man would soon break down
the calculus that stopped my flow
 
and in this regard time shall be made of the essence
 
And not like a thief in the night,
but openly I’d have him
eliminate all limitations,
peel walls and roofs away like rind
and with his knife of stars
reveal what soft exotic fruit grew ripe within
 
and in this regard time shall be made of the essence
 
unchain Prometheus from his rock
to stretch and scratch at last and fire
stones at that bloody bird,
allow Eurydice ascend
to feel the strange dew fall
chill through her faded dress
 
and in this regard time shall be made of the essence
 
remove the ratchet from the clock, North
from the needle, run the many down to one. (Oh no,
hold on there, God, we can’t have that!
I won’t be one with our friend the illicit
erector of barbed wire barricades,
or this damned notary. Cut!)
 
and in this regard time shall be made of the essence
 
It’s evening now. The bell’s transformed.
With a laurel leaf lashed to its tongue
it cries out clear in the wind.
I’ll just sit tight till the Ipral sets me up
and I no longer pass blood,
or feel weak when I attempt to stand
 
and in this regard time shall be made of the essence
 
take idle note of that shrill song:
past flight and hot pursuit
terror passing cold restraint to come
then when I’m up to it again, forgetfully,
turn that stock still.
I trust this terminates our correspondence, Sir
 
and in this regard time shall be made of the essence