Sad Steps

Stumbling back to bed after a pee

I’m startled by the stalker moon, peeping

Thomasina through the spare room window.

Intruder, interruptrix: she’s looking a bit

rough around the edges, her complexion

in need of dermabrasion or at least a gentle scrub.

Tonight she shows her age: well, that makes two of us,

as I fumble across the landing, hair snarled, breath soured

in my faded pyjamas. Old moon, you may control the tides

and they have turned. Seductress to slattern

is a slippery slope, as maiden moves to matron moves to mess.

Moon, harsh lantern, you arrest me in the paparazzi’s flash,

mirrored, captured in my cratered flesh.

Alison Calder’s poetry collection Wolf Tree was a finalist for both the Gerald Lampert and the Pat Lowther Awards. She teaches Canadian Literature and Creative Writing at the University of Manitoba.