YEAR OF THE FIRE PIG

They're smiling when born
in their eyes
below their blazing foreheads
fiery pigments branching
up from between brows.

More than coincidence
they are to be the ones
to turn us. To pry eyes with flames.
Weight of saviors
on bird-wing shoulders.

Yes we cannot know the day
or the hour, but in their lifetime.
Even when their blaze recedes
back into reflecting domes,
you'll see it when flushed

with heat or anger. Flash
of reminder that the end
is near and they are here to
answer: what next?

~j.b. rowell