Desert Dweller

Haiku blushes;
sestina sighs;
cinquain laughs bitterly
at judges tallying novelty like beans.

They mistrust hush, pulse, resonance,
demanding fifty separate tokens
before admitting poem.

Such contests reward dictionaries,
punish necessity, and crown clutter.

Real poems arrive lean, luminous, sufficient,
carrying oceans inside teacups
while clerks count pebbles,
missing tide.

©2026 Bruno Talerico
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