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.
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