Faces (Poetry)

Everywhere there are a host of faces —
peering from the pattern on the curtains
in shadows thrown by angled light
they loom and leer
merge and disappear
tantalize the sight with strange expressions
sometimes monsterous and crooked
or vaguely playful
I cannot help but pick them out
eyes, ears, nose, mouth
the brain insists
I give them space
let them feature in a madcap gallery
I alone can see

It is all fantasy
like cities glowing in the flames
or landscapes made of cloud
imagination runs amok
and conjures pictures
brings some kind of order to
lines that morph and have alternative
interpretations as to form
like dual identity
the room alive with cartoon possibility —
a game of spot a score or more
of almost-hidden faces