
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.