The Last Hotel Room in Sacramento - Melissa Kelley

[Larry Robinson]

The Last Hotel Room in Sacramento 

This time when the fires came, we drove east
past still-charred hills 
and vineyards that escaped the flames,
over the Napa wetlands and through bucolic pastures.
Disaster clung to us despite the miles:
Smoke in our clothes, worry in our words.
Our phones trembled uncontrollably.

In Sacramento we wandered the motel strip like Mary and Joseph,
No Vacancy signs bright as Christmas.
Despondent and worn, we arrive at last at the Motel 6 by the railroad tracks.
Gerald has one room left,
“But I can’t let you have it because the sink is broken.”

We stood tall and pleaded our case
to a man younger than our youngest daughter.
A man whose eyes have not stung from acrid smoke
or seen fear on a neighbor’s face.
A lucky man who will go home tonight and lay his head on his own pillow,
still unaware that sometimes even the shabbiest room
can shine with its own desperate beauty.

	- Melissa Kelley