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Frogsong by Polly Atkin
Editorial Note by Max Wallis
Here, Polly Atkin shapes desire as discipline. “Frog Song” begins with refusal, not abandonment, not anger - and turns the body toward water and sun. Relief arrives as touch: a “cool scarf of water,” a face warmed back into itself. Polly asks what it costs to seek light, and what it means to want recognition: “selfdom,” “gilded halls,” the hope that joy might be a passport. Its frogs are not just cute emblems but a chorus for solidarity; amphibious witnesses to crossing points and shared weather. The hunger for cleansing is complicated… light that “throws shade on everyone”. Yet the ending lands on an act of faith: “I want to believe in trust.” Atkin holds both the yearning for transformation and the courage to name what might still be fragile. This is a praise poem for endurance, and a clear-eyed hymn to wanting more than survival.
The Aftershock Review is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
POLLY ATKIN
Frog Song
Today, I don’t want to write about abandonment
or anger, about the limits of love,
or the invisible border where our worlds meet that dissolves
all mutual care – how to shed it – to go on
without it – is so much easier –
I want to write about a cool
scarf of water drawn over my body
I want to write the relief of sun
on my face, of feeling my whole self soften
under its gaze, my cold hand trying
to touch it, catch it, a golden ball
dropped into a well. If I capture it now
I will capture their hearts.
They will give me my selfdom.
They will welcome me into their gilded halls.
I want to bask in it, the bubble of light.
I want to grasp it between my palms
and crush it through my chest wall. I want it
burning its cleansing power at my core.
I want its truth throwing shade on everyone.
I want to believe in the undeniable
brilliance of frogs, in inalienable love.
Solidarity rising like mist from the water
lit from above. Weightless. Transcendent.
I want to believe in trust.
Buy Some of Us Fall here and The Company of Owls here.
POLLY ATKIN (FRSL) is a poet and nonfiction writer. She has published three poetry pamphlets and two collections – Basic Nest Architecture (Seren: 2017) and Much With Body (Seren: 2021), a PBS Winter 2021 recommendation and Laurel Prize 2022 longlistee. Her nonfiction includes Recovering Dorothy: The Hidden Life of Dorothy Wordsworth (Saraband: 2021), a Barbellion-longlisted biography of Dorothy’s later life and illness, and a memoir exploring place, belonging and disability, Some Of Us Just Fall: On Nature and Not Getting Better (Sceptre: 2023), a longlistee of the Wainwright Prize for Nature Writing 2024, and Hunter Davies Lakeland Book of the Year 2024. Her third nonfiction book is a love song to the owls of Lakeland, The Company of Owls (Elliott and Thompson: 2024). She works as a freelancer from her home in the English Lake District. In 2023 she and her partner took ownership of historic Grasmere bookshop Sam Read Bookseller.
The Aftershock Review is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aftershockpoetry.substack.com/subscribe
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By Max Wallis' Daily Aftershock Writing Prompts (The Aftershock Review)Editorial Note by Max Wallis
Here, Polly Atkin shapes desire as discipline. “Frog Song” begins with refusal, not abandonment, not anger - and turns the body toward water and sun. Relief arrives as touch: a “cool scarf of water,” a face warmed back into itself. Polly asks what it costs to seek light, and what it means to want recognition: “selfdom,” “gilded halls,” the hope that joy might be a passport. Its frogs are not just cute emblems but a chorus for solidarity; amphibious witnesses to crossing points and shared weather. The hunger for cleansing is complicated… light that “throws shade on everyone”. Yet the ending lands on an act of faith: “I want to believe in trust.” Atkin holds both the yearning for transformation and the courage to name what might still be fragile. This is a praise poem for endurance, and a clear-eyed hymn to wanting more than survival.
The Aftershock Review is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
POLLY ATKIN
Frog Song
Today, I don’t want to write about abandonment
or anger, about the limits of love,
or the invisible border where our worlds meet that dissolves
all mutual care – how to shed it – to go on
without it – is so much easier –
I want to write about a cool
scarf of water drawn over my body
I want to write the relief of sun
on my face, of feeling my whole self soften
under its gaze, my cold hand trying
to touch it, catch it, a golden ball
dropped into a well. If I capture it now
I will capture their hearts.
They will give me my selfdom.
They will welcome me into their gilded halls.
I want to bask in it, the bubble of light.
I want to grasp it between my palms
and crush it through my chest wall. I want it
burning its cleansing power at my core.
I want its truth throwing shade on everyone.
I want to believe in the undeniable
brilliance of frogs, in inalienable love.
Solidarity rising like mist from the water
lit from above. Weightless. Transcendent.
I want to believe in trust.
Buy Some of Us Fall here and The Company of Owls here.
POLLY ATKIN (FRSL) is a poet and nonfiction writer. She has published three poetry pamphlets and two collections – Basic Nest Architecture (Seren: 2017) and Much With Body (Seren: 2021), a PBS Winter 2021 recommendation and Laurel Prize 2022 longlistee. Her nonfiction includes Recovering Dorothy: The Hidden Life of Dorothy Wordsworth (Saraband: 2021), a Barbellion-longlisted biography of Dorothy’s later life and illness, and a memoir exploring place, belonging and disability, Some Of Us Just Fall: On Nature and Not Getting Better (Sceptre: 2023), a longlistee of the Wainwright Prize for Nature Writing 2024, and Hunter Davies Lakeland Book of the Year 2024. Her third nonfiction book is a love song to the owls of Lakeland, The Company of Owls (Elliott and Thompson: 2024). She works as a freelancer from her home in the English Lake District. In 2023 she and her partner took ownership of historic Grasmere bookshop Sam Read Bookseller.
The Aftershock Review is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aftershockpoetry.substack.com/subscribe