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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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