During our first few dates, we
scribbled our confessions on paper,
sending them like fast-forward
letters back and forth across the table.
Then you relented and taught me sign-
language, demonstrating how "like"
is the drawing forth of an invisible
string from the centre of your chest
like a loosened thread, freed from
the constraining fabric of your body,
while "love" is the crossing of
both arms in an act of self-defence
and a warning, or simply that "X"
which marks the point of arrival
upon the very treasure map of you.
Labels: Cyril Wong