My Body Is Like An Envelope I have the watermarks from when you steamed my secrets loose from my skin. Boiling, I felt every inch of you tremble, kettle-like, mouth a tight scream of a spout shrilling for attention, for answers. You left me unstuck, spilling words addressed to someone else. No one held your tongue accountable, only mine, here see where I taped down the tears the places that no longer seal.
Perhaps surprisingly, I always find the harder prompts to be the ones where I’ve done something similar before. I have a poem ready to send out for submission that works an extended simile/metaphor of a shipwreck throughout the whole piece. It can be easy to almost write the same poem again if it fits to the prompt, and I had to go off for a little think before I found a way to work around the old poem still lurking in my head.