by Holly Iglesias

Woe

He once loved the thrifty woman, the one who made yogurt and hung bandanas in the windows for curtains. For years, they sat in harmony at a card table with their children and ate lentils and carrot sticks. Did she know that his affection for such food and for her was merely a way to bide his time? Should she have been surprised, when affluence finally visited them, that he would turn? In the tenth year of their marriage, outside a movie theater in an ungentrified, soon to be Miami-Viced Miami Beach, he declared that Conan the Barbarian was his new favorite movie, displacing Rocky, which to her had seemed bloody yet innocuous, just another endearing underdog tale. She had long played Adrian to his Rocky, encouraging him, binding his wounds, wearing a beret and a schlubby coat. But Conan, starring an even more alarmingly muscled man, reveled in slaughter and the conquest of women scantily dressed in hides, suggesting expectations of athleticism and near nudity and large quantities of red meat. The night he set up tray tables in front of their new TV for the family to eat dinner while watching Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, she aspirated a broccoli floret, mercifully losing consciousness as the host touted the delights of champagne wishes and caviar dreams.


Holly Iglesias’ work includes three collections of poetry— Sleeping Things (Press 53), Angles of Approach (White Pine Press) and Souvenirs of a Shrunken World(Kore Press)—and a critical work, Boxing Inside the Box: Women’s Prose Poetry (Quale Press). In addition, she has translated the work of Cuban poet Caridad Atencio. She has received fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts, the North Carolina Arts Council, the Edward Albee Foundation, and the Massachusetts Cultural Council. Iglesias has taught in the Master of Liberal Arts and Sciences Program of the University of North Carolina-Asheville and in the MFA Program in Creative Writing Program at the University of Miami.

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