Troopship, Nov 1944
Joseph Tate
Rich men, poor men,
Poorer men, boys.
Silverspoons, soda jerks,
Shavetails, killjoys.
Hardboiled hotshots, adjutants,
NCOs-to-be,
Belly robbers, bubble dancers
Bucking for orderly.
CHORUS:
One thousand & one seasick sadsacks
Bunked five-high, five-high.
Goldbricking brats and doughboys,
Bucks and—stand-to!—brass hats,
Yardbirds, lambs, and blockheads,
Everloving stiffs and riffraff.
Bebop hepcats with
Zoot suits getting cold,
Missing the Titians
They’d pledged to have and to hold.
REPEAT CHORUS.
99 souls per sq inch, we guessed,
Give or take a few.
Never thought Death would amass
So many souls to undo.
All of us sick to death knowing
The death we’re bound to see,
Sick to death knowing
Death waits overseas.
REPEAT CHORUS.
Joseph Tate’s poems have appeared in E·ratio, Euphony, Fifth Wednesday Journal, The Found Poetry Review, The Kudzu Review, Measure, Yemassee, and other publications. He has also published and lectured on Marx, Radiohead, Shakespeare and prosody.