Ordering the flag
First – red – but not blood or poppy.
I want Bohemian garnet, picked quivering
from the snowy streets of Prague.
Orange, like the tail feathers of a kumul bird.
Bilas for dancing with a drumming tribe.
For yellow it’s the flame of a Bunsen burner,
when the oxygen valve is closed off.
If not, Klimt’s Kiss in the Belvedere.
Green, traffic light green, of course.
Then, blue, slightly more complex,
Ultramarine with a faint salty tang,
crushed from Afghan gold.
Indigo, must be whinberries,
ripe and growing on summer Welsh hills,
doused in rain, held by the sun.
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