The broken Madonna lay on the cold floor
She saw now the end of the compromise,
Anger in his eyes, no kindness anymore
She wondered if the whole thing had been wise.
“What do you mean you’re fond of her?”, he said.
He could not understand, he just wondered
“She must be insane”.
“Go to bed with her is what you want now?”
Of course she loved her, how could she tell him
The only problem, she didn’t know how.
© July 2016 Marta Pombo Sallés
(poem based on Patricia Highsmith’s novel Carol)