Motel Bible

The motel Bible is missing a few pages.

Maybe someone needed them more than she did.

She flips through anyway,

itching at the thin paper with bitten nails,

wondering if God sees her here

alone, in a town with a boring name,

sinking into a bed that smells like strangers.

Outside, the Christmas tree lights flicker vacantly.

Inside, she whispers a prayer

she doesn’t believe in.

Somewhere, a payphone rings.

Somewhere, someone is waiting.

But not for her.

Never for her.