Who is that, that Stands Against the Wall?

By Jack Strayer

Who is that, that stands against the wall?
Is there even anyone at all?
A stalwart face with empty lips
And furtive eyes, I cannot tell, of wine or gris.

His arms rise and fall to a silent muse
While his legs stumble as if in a fugue.
His skin is as transparent as a pallor fog,
But as enchanting as a midsummer song.

He looks sad, then happy, then angry,
Then stoic, then jealous, then tangy;
I cannot pin what’s become of his heart,
For I cannot tell where it stops and it starts.

He appears from nowhere, then fades again;
Taking the smell of roses and death
Back with him to the rolling plains
Of emerald hills and charcoal lakes.

Who was that, that stood against the wall?
Was there even anyone at all?

Jack Strayer is an aspiring writer and poet with an obsession for the intangible. Philosophy and the human experience serve as the foundation for his writing as he draws influences from many classic and modern poets such as Christina Rossetti, William Blake, and Sylvia Plath.