Flight

Somewhere over Iowa I wonder
what jumping would be, dropping from sunlight
into wind, letting my hair twist tight
in knots.

On Agate Beach two dogs chased each other,
etching tracks the tides took back like laughter
dissolving into sound. Ocean takes

chances.

I tried dancing once, even though I was afraid
to step on her feet. Falling gets easier,
relaxes.
Breathing forgets

itself.

I know that no one will catch me
and
isn’t that brilliant?

Blue above.
Below.

Those dogs.      Wet tracks.

Mouths open.

Shelly Krehbiel holds an MFA from Antioch University Los Angeles and a BA in English/creative writing from Pittsburg State University in Pittsburg, Kansas. Her poems have appeared in publications such as The Midwest Quarterly, The Fourth River, and Sulphur River Literary Review. She has contributed work to the dis-articulations poetry project and To The Stars Through Difficulties: A Kansas Renga in 150 voices. Her poem “May” was an honorable mention for the 2015 Lois Cranston Memorial Prize. She currently resides with one cat that does not yet have her fully trained.