Mother With Two Children, 1917, by Egon Schiele Once in Tulln, I ran from my father to live on alchemy, fish bones, and the sweet blue Danube. Every morning two boys rode by on a goat cart laughing outside my window. At sunset my three models came to me: a mother and her children from over the mountain. I posed them flesh against flesh the baby’s tiny hands outstretched. The mother tucked my money into her apron her face warm under my thumbs. The children fell asleep while I painted in the shadows my brain a cold planet lit with spectral fire. Erica Goss This poem first appeared in Ekphrasis. Erica Goss served as Poet Laureate of Los Gatos, CA from 2013-2016. In 2019, she won the Zocalo Poetry Prize. She is the author of Night Court, winner of the 2016 Lyrebird Award, Wild Place, and Vibrant Words: Ideas and Inspirations for Poets. Recent work appears in Lake Effect, Atticus Review, Contrary, Convergence, Spillway, Cider Press Review, Eclectica, The Tishman Review, Tinderbox, The Red Wheelbarrow, and Main Street Rag, among others. Erica is the editor of Sticks & Stones, a bi-monthly poetry newsletter. Please visit her at www.ericagoss.com.
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The Ekphrastic Review
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March 2025
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