Tony's Conoco by Greg Roach

I like to stand next to the stove. I can no longer feel its heat, but it is a comfort, nonetheless. It is lonely here. Waiting. Tied to this place.

It is good to see them. They burn like white flames before me.

If I concentrate, I can see their flesh. The ruin of it is startling. As much as I can be startled.

He was a good man. His soul beats like a white bird at the cage of its chest. I will be with him at the end. I will help to guide him.

Then he and I will wait for her. Then we will all join. Into the light. Into love.