Fall 2010 • Vol. XXXII No. 4 Poetry |

Wife

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 a blackbird.       But I was not. I was hidden in beige.             I was hard corn left for the animals. We were hiding from men, our father       and uncles, who would throw us             in air, leave us in trees, mistake for laughter our screams. On the back       of their motorbikes, into our legs,             the engines burned names. One summer they killed the hornets       by dosing the nest in gas, a turban             in flames. The peacocks tore at the cars. The hunting dogs       were all chained. At the first dust             swirl, I stood up. I got in a car fo

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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.

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Otto Bar

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 […]

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