Wednesday, August 19, 2015

A Deskie's Job

Sits a deskie


A sub-editor


Always a 'sub'


Seldom a master.


Like an artist


He makes a page


Of text and images:


Tomorrow's paper.


Deadlines, bylines


Citylines, datelines


Timelines, factfiles:


Nothing's out of line.


Then comes a story


From a reporter in stress


Unpunctuated, unedited


It's clearly a mess!


The beat's crime


A serious story


A prisoner in jail


Who gets no bail.


The guards worry


Watch him closely


Lest they find him


Strangled, hanging.


His new pyjamas


Of white cotton


No string to tie them


Just two buttons.


The sub smiles


Shakes his head


"How's he filed


such a story?"


A wordsmith's task


To hammer and snip


Beat out a story


Of garbled mess.


He trims the ends


Creates a headline


This text of imagery


Befits a byline.


Silently he keys in


A name not his own


Wish the reader knew


The story he was shown.

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