KABOOM

by Liz Kingsley

She lays down the seats, picnic in the van—
red wine, Cobb salads spread across the floor.
You think you can relax? She asks. I can.

My first glass of wine goes right down; she pours
again as I wipe endive from her lip.
She holds still. Flustered and turned on, I smile.

The outside world hums on at a good clip
while time is frozen here. We two are wild
animals or gravitational moons

succumbing purely to desire, our heat.
I wanted her, but didn’t want to choose
dishonesty, duplicity, deceit,

to blow up my family, the innocent;
regardless, that’s exactly what I did.

---

Liz Kingsley’s poems appear or are forthcoming in SWWIM Every Day, New Ohio Review, The Bloomin’ Onion, The McNeese Review, and other magazines. Her interview with poet Kelli Russell Agodon appears in TriQuarterly. Kingsley was a finalist for the 2025 May Sarton New Hampshire Poetry Prize and the 2025 Saints & Sinners LGBTQ+ Poetry Contest. She earned an MFA from the Rainier Writing Workshop at Pacific Lutheran University. Kingsley lives in New Jersey. Her poems live at lizkingsleywriter.com.