Someone Underlined This

Tuesday. The motel off Exit 14.

The curtains don't close all the way

and the parking lot throws a stripe

across the bed all night.

I was looking for the remote.

The nightstand drawer had a Bible instead —

the cover soft from handling,

the spine cracked open at Psalms.

It fell to something underlined

in blue ballpoint. Careful underlining.

Deliberate. Someone sat in this same room

under this same stripe of light

and drew a line under a sentence

for a reason I can't figure.

I read three pages before I stopped.

Not for comfort. Not for anything

I could name. Just the underlining.

Just the fact that someone needed

to mark the place

so they could find it again.

Or so someone else would.