Poetry by Ellen Ricks
If you wanted me to stay dead you should have buried me deeper.
Scared, broken, damaged and chained I crawled my way out
Through mud, blood, and ash.
Sparks of chaos finds kindling in the will to survive.
What doesn’t kill me didn’t try hard enough.
Word for hire, armed with a pen and quickdraw wit.
Keep a list in my membrane of scores to settle
The clicking of my heels is the only warning I allow
Riding into battle naked and unafraid
With a boulder around my neck.
Combustible, burning with intensity
Eagle eye vision of the reckoning.
Nothing left to lose, no peace to be won.
Forged from titanium and diamonds.
Maybe this shape will suit me better.
Empires to build, kingdoms to burn.
Touching anyone who’s earned my malice,
Can’t extinguish fire in motion.
Darlin’ I’m coming for you.
Choke on my hellfire, whisper my name into the ashes.
You think you can rattle me?
I’ve made playthings from molding clay.
Stole fire from the Gods to set this world ablaze.
Check your calendar, it’s judgment day.
Ellen Ricks is a poet, Hufflepuff, and bibliophile currently haunting Upstate New York. She has a BFA in Creative Writing from SUNY Potsdam and her work appeared in Argot Magazine, Tiny Flames, and Gods and Radicals. When not writing, Ellen enjoys drinking pumpkin spice everything, making terrible puns, and dismantling the patriarchy.