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.
He is being a responsible parent here – taking his son to bed – being a father. 
 If you read this poem from the abusive standpoint, the father sends his son off to bed after beating him to make it seem like he did something wrong. He wants the son to feel guilty and feel like he deserved the beating from doing something terrible. By sending his son off to bed after beating him, the father feels superior and in control, like nothing can stop him.
My Papas Waltz