It's a totally different headpsace for me,
the trappings come so easily
Finding rhythm seems to be
A trick
That I can't settle back into
Sometimes I do find myself mixing the forms, slipping back into prose, my usual workbench for finesse and craftsmanship. I would liken poetry to building a house of cards and writing to building a gunpla model. Both are constructive, require some skill and delicacy, but I can take my time to build a little mech for my desk, take weeks or months and come back to it, and it will be as I left it.
Poetry has no such leisure, it is a house of cards, built in the moment and fragile, something you cannot come back to, as someone will jostle the table. Always happens.