Carmen Giménez Smith
It happened to me once.
Winter came, and snow quilted every inch.
I stood on the soapbox, as I was told,
and made staggering accusations. The public ignored,
so I retreated behind the potted yew.
I was waiting for a moment I was supposed to have
on a balcony overlooking the giant, gridded landscape.
The sounds I made underscored what I meant.