Pareidolia

The couple in the basement argue in the space
they've rented and we can hear every word,
shouted, spoken, or hissed through bitten lips.

We sit quietly, hoping and dreading the fight
will finish before they reach and resolve
some issue of our own, saving us the trouble.

In the patterns of paisley on the wallpaper
faces emerge, grotesque little Mandelbrots that
once viewed cannot be unseen.

Constellations break into asterisms and form
bodies, flatbreads show saviours,
windows reflect a variety of virgins.

Makes me wonder what the people upstairs
think of these silent evenings at our desks,
and if those below hear aught from those below them.

First appeared on the Canadian Poet Laureate's
Poem of the Week website, September 2007