Horse Less Press

Dayton, Ohio

There is no name for the fear
of mustaches, but there are names
for many of our weaknesses.

The fear of large objects, the fear of
hair, especially when detached
from the body. Fear of travel,
fear of childbirth, fear of being
touched, fear of sinning. Also,
the unnatural fear of words.
There are names for each.

It stands to reason that I am not afraid
of everything. But I am afraid
of mustaches, false or otherwise.

Children named and unnamed.
The middle of any place.
The animal in me. Its shadow
pressing, counting down
in a voice so low,
you almost don’t
hear it.

Topiary

Its beauty doesn’t conform
to any natural pattern.
Instead it bends into
the shape we imagine
through a series of clippings.
The effect is achieved
incrementally.

Bird of a bush.
Herd of elephants
grazing in the royal palace.

Cut the small green
leaves, slenderest of twigs.
A wire cage may prove useful
to the untrained hand—
The imposition of
form requires discipline,
if not inventiveness.

Ask any woman
you know.

Marina Hope Wilson’s poems have appeared in journals such as Handsy, FourW, qarrtsiluni, unFold and the Massachusetts Review. She currently resides in San Francisco, where she makes her living as a speech-language therapist.