Mercedes Webb-Pullman

Last week deep underground some pressure shifted.
The pictures on my walls all shook and shifted. 

In my living room the ceiling cracked.
Dust covered the furniture like flour sifted. 

The clothesline in my yard has lost its balance.
Even the concrete slab that held it lifted. 

My little dinghy broke its mooring rope.
Alone without a link to land it drifted. 

I helped my neighbor calm her frightened child.
Mercedes learned how love is sometimes gifted.



Mercedes Webb-Pullman

Rather than miss you, I dance.
I remember love proudly, and dance. 

Alone in the marketplace by chance.
The music starts, and I always dance. 

Roses bruise from an unkind glance.
Whenever you move me, I dance. 

In spring an old camel may prance.
No matter who surrounds me, I dance. 

I wander in a hypnotized trance.
My robe may unravel; unmindful, I dance. 

Nothing exists but this romance.
Even in sacred places, naked I dance. 

I allow no other suitor to advance.
I want no partner but you in the dance. 

My neighbours look at me askance.
Faithful though it kills me, I dance. 

Your love impales me like a lance.
I am Mercedes, my life is your dance.