A witch finds it difficult to overcome sadness.
She cries freely in a locked room.
A witch talks dirty in her sleep.
She lives alone. She makes her own noise.
A witch drinks home-brewed wine alone.
She travels alone in her own car.
A witch gets high on the scent of hyacinth and stargazer lily.
She holds fiercely to her own opinions.
A witch talks to herself. She talks to her greyhound.
She forgets the housework. She faces the moon.
A witch keeps her lost love’s photograph in her breast pocket.
She eats sparingly. She is thin skinned air.
A witch’s hair falls out in patches, her toes bend.
She writes nonsense words on littered wrappings.
A witch knows her body well, and women’s ailments.
She grows borage, marshmallow, red clover, makes miracles.
© Maggie Mackay
Picture No 13725649, © Mary Evans Picture Library
A retired Scottish support teacher for young people with additional needs, Maggie Mackay took up her writing again and began a thrilling new life. After studies at Manchester Metropolitan University, her pamphlet ‘The Heart of the Run,’ Picaroon Poetry, 2018 with Kate Garrett was followed by her debut collection ‘A West Coast Psalter’, Kelsay Books, 2021. In 2020 her poem ‘How to Distil a Guid Scotch Malt’ was awarded a place in the Poetry Archive’s WordView permanent collection and her poem was a runner up in The Liverpool Prize. Steve Cawte at Impspired Press published her second collection ‘The Babel of Human Travel’ in November2022.
She reviews poetry collections at The Friday Poem: https://thefridaypoem.com. Maggie loves a good malt as much as daydreaming on the sofa with Hattie, her marvellous rescue greyhound.
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