New Age Siren

 [Image description: photograph of a section of mosaic. It features Galatea, a sea-nymph who resembles a mermaid, naked to the waist with parts of a long scaly tail visible. There is also a small sea monster, and the hand and arm of another person visible at the right side of the image. The ancient tiles have faded in colour to an almost sepia tone.]  Carmen Escobar Carrio / Creative Commons 

[Image description: photograph of a section of mosaic. It features Galatea, a sea-nymph who resembles a mermaid, naked to the waist with parts of a long scaly tail visible. There is also a small sea monster, and the hand and arm of another person visible at the right side of the image. The ancient tiles have faded in colour to an almost sepia tone.]

Carmen Escobar Carrio / Creative Commons 

New Age Siren sashays across the pool hall
Pretending to be unaware of the multiple eyes of the two-headed men.
Eyes that follow her like spotlights, eyes like lighthouses
Trying to lure her to shore. 
She sails on her own current
To her throne amongst the beach chairs. 

Without invitation, they pour in like waves,
Circling the fair maiden in whirlpools. 
Fingers as fat as daggers
Itching to unravel the strings between her fabric scraps,
To uncover where her tan lines end
And the mystic begins. Dying to drown in her chlorine kisses. 

She does not wish to speak to you.

She does not wish to sing to you. 

Suitors battle on, regardless of Amor,
Flexing their muscles and tongues. 
Pirates, they swagger towards her in board shorts and snapbacks
Saying she’ll find use of Trojans.
She’s content to hum to herself,
Unabashedly self-possessed. 

Zeus’s boys are in a rage. 
Advantages not met with advancements
Turn their poetry to slander;
Galatea has turned to stone again. 

Siren has had enough of lotus eaters,
And prepares a symphony on the diving board
For sailors eagerly waiting on the water’s edge.
As she parts her beeswax lips to the concert of the century, 
One by one, each monster revives in his chosen fate.
Wailing. Waifing.

Plop.


Ellen Ricks is a writer, bisexual, mental health warrior, and Hufflepuff living in Upstate New York. She has a BFA in Creative Writing which, despite popular belief, is useful. Ellen has been published in a variety of websites, journals, and writes her own fashion blog: Sarcasm in Heels. Her freelance work covers literature, pop culture, mental health, travel, fashion, and LGBTQ issues. She was the 2nd place winner in the 2017 Poetry Matters Project Lit Prize in their adult category. When not writing, Ellen enjoys consuming pumpkin spice everything, frolicking in fancy dresses and dismantling the patriarchy.