Naomi Thiers



Your confident hands, your voice
entering me, the way you look
insistently beyond layers, allowing
nothing to be meaningless . . .
itís like every clue in the movie Chinatown.
Each layer of you I peel back
leads to another mirrored universe.
Love, you run my desire
ragged as Jack Nicholson down
labyrinths of curiosity,
from the raw smoke of your mouth,
the broad thrum of your body,
your collarbone, your tight temples
to the brazenness of your mind
entering the world, the way
it rips away fear and yet remains naÔve.
And when your mind needs restó
find me.


The clues lead to the search,
and this is the best of the thing
Iíve always thirsted for, crossed borders for:
an intricate landscape I donít understand
that jolts me, that I travel
with respect and a spice of fear.
When I try to articulate
loving you, discovering you (like Chinatown),
it comes down to something
mysterious and basic as water
and a shout of joy.

Naomi Thiers

Naomi Thiers has published poetry and fiction in many magazines. She published a book of poetry, Only the Raw Hands Are Heaven, with Washington Writers' Publishing House in 1992. She lives in Arlington, Virginia, with her daughter.



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