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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 one knuckle;
 
At every stop 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. 

 
 
Dance Poetry
A comprehensive anthology
Edited by Alkis Raftis
Copyright 2012

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