Saint End
The weekend in Rehoboth Beachthey won a necklace as a penny prize
at a boardwalk arcade, a fragile plastic heartthat read “Best Friend” and snapped in half
to become two necklacesthat brought together formed a whole.
They split it on a windy day,standing on the pier, the ocean heaving
beneath their feet:Her half read, “Be / Fri.”
His half read, “St / End,”like an abbreviation for Saint End.
They saw the same things,and often they saw the same things differently,
so she might say, “It’s a beautiful soundthe trees are making,” whereas he would complain
of the noise of the wind.They wore the halves
when one of them traveled. They wore themfor protection. They wore them
when things were badto remind themselves
they wouldn’t always be. “Be Fri,” she would say,to catch his attention. “Saint End,” he’d reply,
before turning back…
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The American Poetry Review (Digital) - 1 Issue, September/October 2022