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The farm wife finds her necklace in the junk drawer

That’s what’s left of it—
      six safety pins
from a chain I once wore
      beneath my dress to Saylor’s
School and Forks Mennonite
      Church. Who’d suspect
vanity in a girl so shy
      she seldom spoke? I liked
how each pin clicked shut
      to link to the next
and how they encircled me
      like a charm of daisies
I counted round and
      round. Some would have said
that was a sin. The same
      folks who’d pocket a shiny
buckeye against the ache
      of rheumatism.
I took my necklace off
      when I joined my life
with Pete’s. I needed pins
      for diapers, school notes,
lost buttons, loose straps—
      catastrophes
only the quick clasp
      of hidden silver fixed.