Tiffany Atkinson Poems

The husband is a mud-on-the-boots philosophy
in old jeans, loving nothing so much as slow growth.

His thoughts are distinctively British cooperatives,
jovial stall-holders subbing each other loose change.
...

It started unremarkably,
like many regimes. We sat like children
making quiet things indoors. The rivers
...

First, you write how heat
is like another body on your back:
you're losing years each day by way of minerals.
They teach you to drink Coke with salt in
...

Later he tries to explain
the turquoise joy, at ten,
of that first Rangers strip;
his birthday-fingers skidding
on the wrapping's brittle ice.
...

the magic of one of the world's largest gannet colonies, close up.
Pembrokeshire Boat Charters

When the gannets turned her flesh
into a gannet, all the light blew in
at once. It sucked her skyward, shrieking.
...