The Skin under My
Wedding Ring
by Tim Skeen

My Heart Is with You
in This Sad Time
by Angelina Mirabella

Jostling with the Actual:
My Summer with Saul
Bellow
by Michael Griffith

The Skin under My Wedding Ring
    Tim Skeen

It’s Clara Bow’s face in It,
1927, the year my grandparents
were wooing and wedding
in anonymous and remote places
where the horse had only recently
become a novelty and life
was lived in sonnet-sized houses
with sons and daughters whose faces
were as white as the skin
under my wedding ring and all else
is blank and darkness and swelling
and the memory of a voice in childhood
that says, He’s an ass, but I love him
more than I could love any of the others.