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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