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Poem: “Advent”
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Editors’ Picks: Thin Places
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Editors’ Picks: Dinosaurs
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Editors’ Picks: Natality
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The Mustard Seed Project
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Feasting at Teatime
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Letters from Readers
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Covering the Cover: Money
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Hudson Taylor
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The Effective Samaritan: A Parable
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The Justice Mothers Are Due
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The Library at Home
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Who Deserves Medical Care?
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A Saver’s Grace
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Light Came in as a Flood
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The Other Side of the Needle’s Eye
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Selling Friends
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Princess of the Vatican
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Enchanted Capitalism
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Leper Colony Sketches
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In Praise of Costly Magnificence
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The Last of the Cuban Revolutionaries
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The Religion of Mammon
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Pay As You Can
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Ownership and Communion
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Saving the Commons
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History Arrives on the Island
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On Owning Twenty-Two Cars
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Where Your Treasure Is
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Poem: “Clair de lune”
This poem was a finalist for Plough’s 2023 Rhina Espaillat Poetry Award.
The angle between the ascending node of an orbiting body and its periapsis, the point at which it is closest to the gravitational center of another body, measured in the direction of orbital motion. —Dr. Alice Gorman
We argued again today. This time? It might
have been a pot unwashed, or trash day missed—
I can’t remember—a stupid, pointless fight
as if controlled by some ventriloquist.
Slam door, start car, and leave, radio blaring.
On the highway, I head north, nowhere to go
but through the night sky, muttering and swearing.
I drive too fast to the next exit, then slow
and circle back.
Just barely healed, we’re shy,
quiet and tentative, making our way
together. Is there sound in space? We try
saying what we really mean to say.
I cannot travel very far from you—
yours is the body I am closest to.
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