Headlines & Deadlines - an Editor's Day on Poetic Display

My sky-blue pencil's poised to strike,
Deleting phrasings I dislike,
Another author's dreams to spill,
Conforming copy to my will.

I'm cropping photos, fitting art,
Tearing out a writer's heart,
Counting out each column inch
And adding fillers in a pinch.

The ad department makes a change,
A new insertion, nothing strange.
I kill a feature, scrap the page
And wish I earned a higher wage.

The deadline looms; I feel the crunch,
It hits me like a sucker punch:
The press is rolling, down below,
As I build my portfolio.

My publisher is on the line
With overtures he may resign.
He wonders if I want his slot,
To move from frying pan to pot.

Decisions racing in my head,
I grab the galleys, now proofread,
And signal the production crew
To print the issue: "Whew! I'm through!"

The new edition's now addressed,
But for the editor, no rest.
My in-box fairly overtips
With unread queries, manuscripts.

My boss' offer piques my mind
With hopes and worries of all kind.
Shall I pursue this higher call?
For I love editing most of all!