UNDERGROUND VOICES: POETRY

TAYLOR C. RENFROE

DENOUEMENT OF THE BOTTLE

Live a little, she said,
lighting a cigarette with a practiced nod,
eyes closed like going in for a kiss.
Stop apologizing for yourself in advance --
it’s a nasty habit.
Try to love me
like it’s something you actually care about
more than the idea of being loved.
Try a little, she told me,
cesium smoke in a blooming fountain.
Make the effort – act like it’s something you want,
and fuck what the others think.
Words can never save you,
they’re just the lyrics of a song.
It’s when Miles blows the trumpet
that he’s really got my attention.
Risk a little--
as I stared into the amber fathoms
blurring the grain of the wood --
learn to love the threat of failure.
All good lovers fall apart one day,
broken and burned on the ashes of unfulfillment
passion leaves behind.
Sacrifice a little,
even if it’s just a perception;
you can try it on for size.
Maybe it’ll cost more than your comfort--
I’d like to think I’m worth a little of that.
Someday you’ll have to make the choice
when I can’t stay in these rumpled bedclothes,
waiting
for when you don’t have better dreams to chase.
And I remember having good reasons
for every rainbow and fallen leaf,
but they’ve seemed a little hollow these days,
with those bedclothes by the window
piled with chalky morning fog,
and I’m watching them
through the tunnel of our history
reflected in the glass.


"Provocateur, barnstormer, daredevil, mystic, dastardly villain, sommelier, absintheur, lover, T.C. Renfroe wraps hope and heartache in a voice of noir. He currently lives in the Midwest and heads a circus sideshow when not writing."







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