Dead Men Missing Women by Nate Braeuer

Man and Woman from the knees down, striped cat between them.
Soldier’s Goodbye & Bobbie the Cat by Sam Hood. CC license.
Men in oiled slacks come shuffling
down the mount in droves.
Combed in purple milk the sky
rolls up like bad reception
                                      quaking
clear from gaveled hits. Dead
to hover sun-gray deserts. Hardened
skins that settle in the darker
crease of echoed canyons.
             Dusting fields in phantom scrimmage.
             Threading creeks up meadow’s twilight.
             Wingtips rippling through the surface.
             Flocks of dead men stuck in motion.
Lose their balancing in tandem
when the world does its brief wobble.
Lugging weathered duct-taped boxes and
cold paper cups of coffee.
                                          Lobbing
soft regrets between them
like a parlor game undone. While the
whispers of sedans stalk through church
parking lots’ white sun.
If they could be themselves again not
                          so much nice again but genuine.
The recorded chimes of churchbells sound
and rogue winds die away.
The clouds break in unsalted tears

they did not think could touch them.


Nate Braeuer
Nate Braeuer spends most of the stray moments of his life writing poems and songs. His involvement with the Writer’s House in Charlottesville, Virginia, provides the guidance and framework for his first poetry collection.

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