J. Scott Brownlee

A Body Loves Dismantling

& I am not that far away from dis-
integration.  Bluebonnets bloom

on thick stalks above me.  I cannot
worship them without hesitation—

the kind my heart strains toward
as they do nourishment, which is hard

to find here in my dismemberment. 
I put my skull in a polished bull’s now,

& his fits perfectly outside like a helmet
or death-crown made for me by nothing

& no one.  Disappearance sculpts it
from clay, calls me Adam, Black Boar

Femur, Bobcat Hip Bone, Coyote Jaw
Lifted Delicately by Wind
.  Pockmarked

for months until flawlessly polished
by grit churning deep in my gears’

wisdom teeth, I claim multitudes, yes. 
You have heard correctly.  & I get

a new name with each resurrection. 
Dedicate every carrion kill-cry to me. 

Let my empty tomb turn to a nest
of catfish: spring-fed, full, forgiving.

J. Scott Brownlee

J. Scott Brownlee is a poet from Llano, Texas.  His work appears widely and includes the chapbook Highway or Belief, which won the 2013 Button Poetry Prize.  He is a founding member of The Localists, a literary collective that emphasizes place-based writing of personal witness, cultural memory, and the aesthetically marginalized working-class, both in the United States and abroad.  A former Writers in the Public Schools Fellow at NYU, he currently lives in Brooklyn.