
Train at Night in the Desert
Georgia O’Keeffe, 1916
By Amie Sharp
Georgia, it’s been one hundred years
since you stood in the dark Texas dawn
and marveled at the multicolored haze
clouding toward you down the track.
You thought the rest of your life
would unspool from Canyon, Texas.
You wrote Alfred Stieglitz that you saw
the train, thought of him, and blazed.
You had never even been to New Mexico.
I think of you, so young on the stark
gray sand, in the path of the oncoming,
which looked that night like a train,
glittering alive and black,
its light fixed upon you
like a sun, like an eye
seeing what no one else can see.
“Train at Night in the Desert: Georgia O’Keeffe, 1916” by Amie Sharp. Copyright © 2018. Originally appeared in Burningword Literary Journal and was reprinted in Aesthetica Creative Writing Anthology.