May Day is the latest book by former Makar Jackie Kay. A bold and beautiful collection dedicated to Jackie’s late parents, we are delighted to be sharing four poems from this significant new work here at BooksfromScotland.

May Day
By Jackie Kay
Published by Picador

Daughters, Neighbours
for Elaine 

Friend, you saved me through the window:
a wave, a glass raised, a kid-on knife at the throat,
all our pantomimes played out like Rear
Window moved to suburban Glasgow. 

 And then came sorrow,
your mammy’s hearse pushed uphill in the snow.
My mum following ten days later.
The snow still thick in our street. 

Now who are we, my dear friend,
what are we without our mothers?
We who loved them through these long-long years.
Here we are, both turning sixty, 

walking grief’s long corridor
to the open window, the open door,
knowing we could not have given more.
We could not have given more. 

Bonnie Lassie 

Bonnie lassie will ye stay
through aw that’s coming tae greet us O.
The loss, the grief, the wildernesses,
the blank faces and the hot flushes,
the blootered days, the blaze, old age,
the dying light, the rage agin it,
Will ye ne’er grow weary, weary O. 

Bonnie lassie will ye tak
the squeeze o’ years, their weight, crack.
And across the meadows, we maun donder
hand in hand, still fu’ o’ wonder –
till the trees are bony, and the bonny banks
spill, my girl, across the corn rigs and barley,
the ploughed fields, the green grown rashes O.
Will ye ne’er grow weary, weary O. 

Mother’s Day, 2022 

Where do we post our cards to the dead?
Would it be the tiny red box at Camuscross
or the one in Eigg – you laughed when I told you of
a sign that read Don’t post here birds nesting.
No, not that one then. 

And would you get it wherever you have gone
and take pleasure in it, the immense
pleasure you took in all ‘interesting post’? 

I remember you ruffling through your address
book the Christmas before last: He’s dead.
She’s dead. Oh my. She’s dead. They’re dead. Oh Jesus.
And now, though I can barely believe it, you are – 

but your last sentence but one was
Jackie, I can see everything so clearly now,
donning your new polka-dot frames,
maroon and cream. 

And so I trust, dear Mum, you’ll see this
and relish this love that goes on and on and on 

A Banquet for the Boys
(for MK, Andy, Phazey, B-man and Bailout) 

When your foot was stood on and you couldn’t stand
and you couldn’t cook for Phazey or B-man,
I ordered you a feast to lend a helping hand:
for your benevolence, some baba ganoush,
and for your fidelity, your empathy – fattoush;
for your brotherly ways, some moujaddara set al beit.
For Black Lives Matter some bamieh bel zeit. 

Tabbouleh since you’re all trans-affirming bros.
Halloumi to hail the halo round your afro.
Zucchini since you’re so queer-affirming,
makdous, moutabal for loving diversity and the mandem.
Restorative justice in a Vegan Lovers’ Platter.
For love, for the love of protest – pickles, bread.
For keeping your head, boys, for knowing what matters. 

May Day by Jackie Kay is published by Picador, priced £10.99.