My Papa's Waltz By: Theodore Roethke Poem by abigail phillips

My Papa's Waltz By: Theodore Roethke



The wisky on you 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 coutenance
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.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Travis Coleman 04 January 2012

this is a good poem i think the father kills his child and that's that dirt bra

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