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.

-Theodore Roethke

2 years ago
  1. gah46 reblogged this from this-sunburnt-earth
  2. this-sunburnt-earth reblogged this from alliterativefool and added:
    The whiskey on your breath Could make a small boy dizzy; But I hung on like death: Such waltzing was not easy. We romped...
  3. visuallystimulated reblogged this from alliterativefool and added:
    this will always be one of my favorite poems
  4. alliterativefool posted this