Georgia O’Keeffe & Alfred Stieglitz


Their lives have split apart but still they spend

the winter months, those short dark days, together.

And their connection has become a myth

for both of them, a structure that lives on.

I saw a ziggurat of beeswax once,

a tall stepped edifice of dullest gold,

breathing the faintest scent of honey through

the gallery, although the liquid sweetness

that had lived within the comb was gone.

The energy that flowed between them, gleamed

in photographs and paintings, has lapsed now.

From what remains they mould this artefact:

as keep-sake for the sake of keeping faith,

as truthful and delusive as a myth.