Thursday, June 29, 2006

My Papa's Waltz

I've heard this poem being referred to twice recently. It kind of hurts.

My Papa's Waltz by Theodore Roethke
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 one 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.


At 12:39 PM, Blogger Stevie ~ mono no aware said...

powerful description of an intoxicated dance.

At 7:34 AM, Blogger BonBon said...

Remember the part in Teaher Man about this poem?
This poem is very sad to me; too close to home...good for when I want a good cry.


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