A.F. KING
Clock Counting·Section III

POEM + FORM

The Truth

AUTHOR NARRATION

Hear the poem.

Read by the author in the original English.

The TruthEnglish narration

THE LINE THAT TURNS THE POEM

Why everyone leaves.

This is intentionally the only line in the poem that begins with a capital letter.

Why everyone leaves.

Placed between the poem’s backward look at fault, love, and absolution and its movement toward what comes afterward, the line acts as a fulcrum. Its capitalization briefly changes the poem’s visual pressure: it can be read as a sentence, a title, a diagnosis, or a question stripped of its question mark. Everything before it leans toward the line; everything after it moves away.

THE POEM IN IMAGES

The Truth, in eight images.

Eight fragments of the poem are illustrated below:

“before our lot is sorted out—first, of course, by class and native creed, then divided good and wicked & ordered alphabetically…”
A solitary soul enters an immense sorting hall lined with countless drawers.
“…there is a common stop to which each soul is brought, alone, a gentle cottage by the sea.”
A solitary figure walks toward a small white cottage beside the sea.
“…just standard beach house fixings: sea glass and polished shells, beiges, blue & green pastels, drapery as gentlewhite as afterlife…”
A bright pastel interior decorated with sea glass and polished shells.
“…a table genuflecting by the window has an envelope addressed to you, it's labeled: The Truth.”
A sealed envelope rests on a low, bow-legged table beside a window overlooking the sea.
“take your time; it’s the morning and the day stretches out endless and obliging, just past the horizon, like a child’s day. pour some tea, perhaps, it’s a lot to digest.”
Tea and an opened envelope wait before a sea washed in endless morning light.
“forgive, recollect, reconsider—think things through a second time in light of your new knowing. out the window, see the sun’s sheen halo growing on the ocean. take comfort in your dashings-out of doubts, weep with joy at absolution, resolution. breathe. grieve. know, finally…”
An opened envelope and tea before a window onto the sea, while symbolic fragments of a life emerge within the luminous sky.
“everyone is out back laughing off their paling losses, spitting out like summer watermelon seeds their petty stratagems & smallnesses.”
A group of adults laugh in the garden behind the seaside cottage, sharing watermelon and spitting its seeds into the grass.
“of course, the choice is yours to read or not, and neither option better. but it’s there if you want it. take your time, you have forever.”
At sunset, a path divides equally between the cottage’s open door and the shoreline continuing toward the horizon.

READER DISCUSSION

Share some words about these words.

No comments have been published yet. You can be the first reader to respond.

Maximum 2,000 characters. Links are not accepted.

No account or email address is required. Comments appear after approval.

This poem may have more to say.

Follow updates to this poem