Anne Velasco

To have a day off from work was a treat. The holiday was Martin Luther King’s birthday and I was returning from a morning exercise class. Grabbed from behind by someone who looked like a tradesman servicing our building, I fell to my feet in the entry, hiding my keys. Though I lost my purse, I did not lose my physical integrity except for a gash on my head. I realized that it was important to describe what had happened when I felt compelled to tell the police liaison officer while on the job at school. As fate would have it, I was enrolled in a poetry writing class at a community college. Professor Steve encouraged us to write as much as possible. I decided to write about the robbery. The poem that emerged raised me to a level that was far beyond being a victim on the floor. In fact, I was surprised at how I rose above the incident through first characterizing the interloper as a serpent and then as an inanimate, plastic toy.