Suddenly one morning, Joseph K is arrested at his home
Apartment to apartment, from lawyer to lawyer, whither he roams,
He discovers everything is beneath the Court’s unassailable dome.
The trial wraps itself around K’s neck like a noose;
It looms overhead, ambiguous, following like a cloud,
So that K, argumentative, confident, innocent, cannot hang loose.
On consulting the painter, K decides to drop his domineering lawyer,
With whom he’s dissatisfied, despite the daunting danger,
And of all the women he’s been with, he harangues her (Leni).
Reposed and ready for his final trial, K’s once more ripped from his room;
And dragged through the streets, as if “guilty” of a crime, he finds he can’t fight time,
For “the Law” has spoken, has driven into his heart a knife—yes, the clouds still loom.
Ycleped by a priest, a “door-keeper” of the Court, K is told a story:
A man is kept from the Law by a door-keeper, who closes it off for him.
K cries, “The door-keeper’s deceptions do himself no harm but do infinite harm to the man” (242)