Today’s prompt was to write a poem which incorporated the following: addresses a person directly, includes a made up word, an odd or unusual simile, a statement of ‘fact’ and an anachronism.

It didn’t happen as it’s written, you know.

They’ll tell it like I was overcome by a

raw hunger, a fever impossible

to ignore.  Curiosity: another so called gift

from a so called god, along with guile

and cunning.  What you might also call

intelligence, in a forgiving mood.

They also say they made

me beautiful. Maybe they did.  I was like

sunlight on a prison door. Like the

promise of a sealed jar.

It was quite a thing, the box.

I defy you not to want to take a peek.  But

a wrapped present is often better than

an opened one. 

In the end it was the tedium that

got me.  I’d been brought to him like

a poisoned deliveroo, a trap, a bored plot

device.  I’d rattle about the nest

drinking lattes with the wives, while my

goddish husband ineptly bestowed his

powers upon the world.  All the while

Zeus’s gift glinted at me from the shelf.

What would you have done? 

When the world’s evils came spilling out,

came washing over me like a flushed toilet –

the plagues, the wars, Love Island – I just

stood there and took it. 

Nothing to be done.

And right at the end – when the shower

had reduced to a trickle – there it was.

Shiny, like a marble.  The smallest crumb.

Hope.

I picked it up and held it to the light.

That’s how Pandora brought hope to the

world.  They leave that bit out.