Variations on flags: handmade and

bold, uneven and overlapping.

They scrabble

As the outline of each form falters,

shape-shifting, shuffling and


Imposing angles jut and veer,

They bear down, push out, move


But when they know themselves there’s


A cavity through which to breathe

long, to breathe deeply.

That sharp lemon light, an intravenous

muscle relaxant.

An awkward cream pyramid, bathed

in a single invisible sunbeam. Near


Purple cloud atop a bulging mountain,

a comically ill-fitting hat.

The modest streak of lightest blue

stretched out below a grainy open sky,

Negligible but necessary

Nothing flighty,

Not even the butterfly whose shadow

is frozen in a frame of mustard yellow.

The impact of colour brushing colour


Then unleashed.

Tantalising forms nestle alongside

the familiarity of a house, a roof, a

horizon, a boat,

A circle, a triangle, an angle.

Gentle contrasts of texture and

opacity: they absorb us and hold us at


The blurred seams of these simple


Lizzie Lloyd. 2014