A Narrowing of the Universal by Kymberly Taylor

A violin and Y soaking in the lower
distance of the bathtub almost in love
with Phil.    Though fortiesh, often in the White

House Situation Room, Phil was still humble,
unmarried, prone to such charming accidents.
Like last nightís. His hair, over-gelled,

caught fire at dinner.   After the waiters doused him
with champagne, Y taxied him home to his Dupont Circle
condo, soothed him.    Let him rip her dress

    off, tie her hands behind her
    with her own panties. She faux fainted

onto his bed, despite her private vow
not to. He still sleeps, pressing her underwear
to his lips. As the strains of the
strange violin increase, Y bathes
a wingtip heís perfect, what a combination,
Iím done until the breathy girl breathes
into his answering machine: Beast, it was lovely and just
breathes and breathes.

To make matters worse, Y recognizes
herself in the violin, in a tune within
a tune.    There she is again.    A minor variation

in b flat and d, prelude to a stunning
solo. She was hearing herself
as Phil seemed to see her.    As a series

of brown-haired, blowsy notes,
nothing little notes hummed once or twice
on his way to another girl.
Phil stirs, half-awake, singing along
with the violin. Humming Y now. Y flies
at the sound of herself sung by a voice she thought she
knew. But the violin, like all aggravating music,

follows her out his door and everywhere,
a narrowing universe containing loss
and the taste of a lover, replaying at odd moments,

as she breaks herself into pieces,

polishing each carefully, certain the shine will telegraph
her flaws. These she extracts, flings far from her,
the knicked majors and split-open flats regrouping,
minnowing off together, a spare peculiar code

    longing forth in the shape of her.

Issue Four

Editorial: Outside the Penumbra of Postmodernism

Modernist After Modernism

John Peck

Four British Poets

Orlando Ricardo Menes

Catherine Kasper

Kymberly Taylor

Charles Cantalupo

Stephen Collis

Reviews of: Tod Thilleman

Reviews of: Charles Bernstein & Co.

And: The Word From Russia

And: The Word From Ireland

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