My Uncle Jack
by Belinda Roddie
My uncle Jack made pancakes every night
and waffles every morning, golden brown
and topped with bacon, syrup, and thick, bright
yellow butter sold locally in town.
My uncle Jack drank beer for breakfast, and
he only sipped on coffee when the moon
had fully risen in the sky. His hands
would tremble afterward, but he would soon
be laughing and dancing a merry jig,
swooping my aunt up in his hairy arms
and almost causing her to lose her wig
which she still wore to ward off chemo's harms
to her. My uncle Jack ate pancakes every night
yet lived to ninety: He was quite a sight!