Companion Novel
The cat redoes itself
into a headless impression, all circle; you microwave
your red wine in a mug
about Pittsburgh; we forgive each other over and over
as lightning forgives the roof
for being in the way—
through and through and through.
you are not meant to drink
for another two days.
When you get a dog it’s a big one.
When you learn to drive it’s at 29.
When your arm breaks it’s clean
like a liftable bridge splitting above water.
a gap in the x-ray: a black inch for freighters
to pass through. I call your mom.
you call your pastor to see if you can
call your own mom after.
you name your dog car crash.
I let you then I let you.
Claire Oleson is a queer writer and 2020 Fiction Fellow at the Center for Fiction. She is an Assistant Editor at the Kenyon Review and an incoming MFA candidate in fiction at NYU. Her work has been published by Joyland, the LA Review of Books, Foglifter, and Brink, among other journals. She is currently working on a novel that treads the space between luxury and survival in contemporary homesteading practices. She is represented by Eloy Bleifuss at Neon Literary. Claire can be found puttering about online at www.claire-oleson.com.