My Papa’s Waltz

The whiskey on your breath
Could make a small boy dizzy;
But I hung on like death:
Such waltzing was not easy

We romped until the pans
Slid from the kitchen shelf;
My mother's countenance
Could not unfrown itself

The hand that held my wrist
Was battered on once knuckle;
At every step you missed
My right ear scraped a buckle

You beat time on my head
With a palm caked hard by dirt
Then waltzed me off to bed
Still clinging to your shirt