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.

(Source: NPR)