No - This Is Not It Either Poem by cahen thrips

on just such a grailing nude day
shall I step barefoot in a sacred pool
(raising ripples)
stoop with hands parting water
begin turning sunken stones

see what's interred in those
shallow hollows of slickering sand
(stranding ideas)
prise open a thousand oyster shells
in faint hope of finding treasure

of discovering my own prufrock,
barbara, colours or red wheelbarrow
(scrutinising)
never knowing if this could be it
or likely not as the case may be

for it's said that for each of us
there waits that singular pearl
(a precious one)
here hold it up towards the sun
mislead a distant stranger to wave from shore

but no this is not it nor it at all
though I place it in my purse
(tuck it safely)
now that boulder weighs me down
I think: you're all getting it wrong

I'm neither waving nor drowning
but merely flounder for the elusive
(it's not for me)
that gem which I should call my own
a sole perfect pearl like azrael

when wearied I step out of the pool
damp footprints soon evaporate
(waters erase)
eddies subside into glass
and it's as if I were never here at all

around my undeserving nakedness
I drape a string of shoddy pearls
(artificial)
just enough to disguise deceit
of my Emperor's devious tailor

August 2022