Poetry by Kyla Houbolt

Mark Spearman CC




All the little broken fungi

They had a mother too.
Higher than the top of the hill
is where you go when.
Nature notyour knot when
you’re just a small window
in a brick wall arrayed with
many other small windows
regularly spaced. Be a grid.
Be your own part of the grid.
That’s a good grid. Who’s
a good grid? I don’t know
what I’m talking about except
I do. Words never carry anything
but they make it flat first. So
they can hold onto it, see, but
our lives and world remain
slippery. I might say slippery af
but you might not know
what I mean then, or even
now. The dulcet skulking
of language. It is to your
benefit. Or possibly,
not.

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Kyla Houbolt is a poet and gardener living in North Carolina. Her first full length poetry collection, Becoming Altar, from Subpress Poetry, is available here: https://asterismbooks.com/product/becoming-altar-new-and-selected-poems 
​Social media: https://bsky.app/profile/luaz.bsky.social, and website: https://kylahoubolt.us/

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