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12 the minnesota review Judith Root Haight St. & Failing If you've got a car, radiator's where they get you first. When it goes, you start to belong where you are. Next, the slow leak no one can trace. Deliberate reckoning, all your offenses coded and filed by the proper authorities. It's not as though you didn't know the odds, the record scored along your genes, the way your father looked at you when finally they let him out for good. Like all of us you've seen the movies flickering bright possibilities and the butterfly tattoo below your belt before it abscessed, scabbed & lost the color on one wing, or the visiting family friend who promised you work in a strange but beautiful western town then took your mother, only slightly grey, in his camper when he left. Her apron still hung over the stove, its heart pocket flapping like a flag. ...


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