Alison Stine

Alison Stine

Alison Stine is an essayist, poet, novelist, and visual artist. Her most recent fiction book is a novella The Protectors (Little A), and her most recent book of poetry is Wait (University of Wisconsin Press). An NEA Fellow and former Ruth Lilly Fellow, she works as a reporter, and illustrates for The Rumpus.

Summer 2002

When I Taught Mary to Eat Avocado

By Alison Stine

                                        She didn't understand. You couldn't cut straight through with the big knife            because of the pit, or heart, or stone.                                         We gave it many names, and when it was revealed, […]

Summer 2002

Otto Bar

By Alison Stine

You must understand.                                 The drink tasted of blood because of the cap's mineral tang,                          because of the salt of the hand that served,                             because the singer in your band had […]

Fall 2010

Wife

By Alison Stine

We waited in the field like birds.       We ran and hid in the fields to watch.             Oh make me a big house. Make me a blackbird. I want to be […]

Fall 2010

Stepmother

By Alison Stine

Save the dreams for therapy, the therapist        said. But this dream has a train. That’s new.               And outside the window: a boy and a man in medium coats, the boy’s […]

Summer/Fall 1999

Lot of My Sister

By Alison Stine

1. The only prostitute I ever met sat on a black bench and offered to share her bread with me. She was not that pretty, but the bread was warm […]

Summer/Fall 1999

The Wig

By Alison Stine

1. Melanie who lost her hair because of a stone in her uterus, Melanie wears a wig today. I see her fumble with it, fuss with the back wisps, push […]

Summer/Fall 1999

Blood Music

By Alison Stine

These things make no sound to me: the trace of your feet on stairs, the brush of flesh against flesh as we turn, not even waking. I think we only […]

Summer/Fall 1999

Vincent’s Ear

By Alison Stine

1. Hear this: you are the kind of person to cup your quiet hands around a moth or slap it with the flat of your palm as it paddles toward […]