this pigture opens its mouth in technicolor—
not to shout, but to rearrange silence.

a spiral of orange, magenta, soot,
the sound of graphite thinking too fast.

the eyes—two startled planets
discovering mirrors for the first time.

oink becomes a verb of creation:
it redraws the air, line by trembling line.

hypothesis: chaos wears lipstick.
counter-hypothesis: lipstick wears chaos.

synthesis: both dance in the snout’s bright echo.

paper sweats.
color laughs.
form loses its passport.

I sign nothing—
the pig already knows my name,
and spells it back in pink thunder.