Georgia O'Keeffe I

by Samantha Long


By ninety-six she had left
The Abiquiu House, bound
For quiet in Santa Fe, going
Blind with eyes blue-gray, low
Sun setting over Miss O’Keeffe
And her silver combs. Caretaker
Must braid her long hair
And wind it into a bun at the nape
Of her neck set still by the silver
Combs, three to secure her hair
And two expensive ones, pretty
Behind her ears she says to keep her
Hair, gray-brown, from covering
Her already blind eyes. They were
Just for show, how momentous
A transliterator, these combs.
Her heart sang ninety-eight years
In sweeping color, ram’s skull
Steadfast in a desert sea
Of silver
To settle in a house set small
Against the blue mountains
Behind it, eyes misty blue, hair
So gray against the stone walls
It was also silver-blue,
Blue, blue.


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