What It Takes To Become a Poet

someday i would borrow
my brother's body, try
twisting it with lines
and gag his brain with poetic metaphors
and see how it looks
to become a poet.
someday i would venipuncture
out his cold blood, transfuse it
with mine and see how
poetry will burn his body
like a candle flame.
i see in my eyes
a man walking with no skull, and
his skin smells of the scorching
sun that burns rambled poetic verses. his
voice resonates that of a man who has no other tongue,
but one that breaks the
poetic volcanoes like a tinted glass.
and i wonder how a man that has
never seen the metaphor of grief
would call himself a poet.