It is Friday the 13th and I am wearing my grandpa’s underwear
I am wearing my grandpa’s underwear because I forgot to pack any
It is Friday the 13th and the weather is beyond
I am wearing my grandpa’s underwear which show surfboards and palms
It is Friday the 13th, I skipped work and feel no remorse
I am wearing my grandpa’s underwear, but I could also wear my swim trunks
It is Friday the 13th and I cried salty circles onto my glasses
I cried salty circles because today we buried my grandpa’s ashes
And the ashes of red pants, a jacket, underwear and a shirt
Which showed surfboard and palms—my grandpa thought it was beyond,
My grandpa, whose underwear I am wearing
On this hot Friday the 13th
This could have been another poem, solemn and reverent
In which it wouldn’t be Friday the 13th
And I wouldn’t have taken his underwear
Which wouldn’t have surfboards and palms, beyond that
It wouldn’t be about my grandpa, whose ashes we buried today
Who once almost pissed himself laughing in a service, solemn and reverent
But hopefully not in the underwear I am wearing
Which I have taken, for which I feel no remorse
I feel remorse for not bringing a tissue (and underwear!)
To wipe the salty circles off my glasses
On this hot Friday the 13th where beyond all he weathered
We buried my grandpa’s ashes
Author Biography
Niklas Zabe (he/him) is a graduate student of North American Studies as well as the Masters of Education Program Lehramt für Gymnasien for the subjects of English and Geography at Leibniz University Hannover. In his academic pursuits he is most interested in the fields of ecocritical and queer theory and their application to popular and literary culture of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. In his poetry, he is trying to untangle confusing moments, affects, and ideas into language.
Copyright (c) 2026 Niklas Zabe.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.
