Poems from the Backroom 34; JoAnne McKay

JoAnne McKay was born in Romford in Essex. Her father owned a slaughterhouse and butchers. She went to Bristol University, and then joined the police. She now lives in Penpont, which as everyone knows is an oasis of creative calm amidst the tumult - or stasis, now- of contemporary life, and works for the charity Arthritis Care in a national role, running services for children and young people throughout Scotland.

JoAnne’s poetry and prose has been published in numerous literary magazines, both print and online. She has published several poetry pamphlets including 'Venti' which was runner up in the Callum MacDonald prize. Her most recent collection was 'If you find my Mother, buy her Flowers', with the Anglo-Roumanian poet Maria Stadnicka. She has appeared at The London Poetry Festival, the Wigtown Book Festival, Glasgow’s 'Aye Write' literary festival and Electric Fields. She performed her sonnet sequence, Hermetic, at the Theatre Royal, Dumfries as part of the Bunbury Banter Theatre Company’s A Play, A Poem and A Pastry. Her most recent project, 'We Fire the Dark', was a series of readings exploring the catalogue of a nineteenth century museum in nearby Thornhill for Cample Line, an arts organisation in Nithsdale.

An extract can be seen from 'We Fire The Dark'  here: https://vimeo.com/campleline

Another poem by JoAnne, inspired by her time as curator at Burns' House in Dumfries.

CURATING BURNS HOUSE

Like fragments of the true cross, spot lit
for devout attention, the gauging rod
and toddy ladle of a minor god
laze in case, conjuring the hypocrite
to taxing thoughts of illicit stills
in heather hills, copper worms condensing
some spirit of freedom, and Scotch smuggling
down South for pound profit from the gristmills.
God knows, the winter is wild, comfort hard
to come by, two fingers for the exciseman,
Ca ira, Ca ira, sit down, sup up
revels and romance with the whisky bard.
Love, lust; distil raw feeling as a man
to poem proof alone I’ll raise a cup.