My Papa's Waltz - T. Roethke

I put this poem in because of a conversation with my wife who teaches theatre arts to junior high students (a saint for doing so, is she not?). anyhow, one of the students had selected this poem under the guise of it being a lament on alcoholism.

 

i have to disagree. this is a recount, from a point of view of affection, of a son toward his father. the sentiment expressed by the narrator is not regret, or condemnation toward the father. it is one thing and one thing only:

Love. 

 

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 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.