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Little Fox Music Box

The night before the funeral,
my daughter kept asking
for Grampa’s movie, I wanna watch
Grampa’s movie, and our eyes sought
each other, helpless—
no one knew what movie was his
and only his—and then
we realized it was that tinkling app
with the flannelled fox and the banjo
and the twittering, lit-up-with-fireflies sky—
so my husband gathered her
as Jim had gathered her before,
as I can imagine him doing again,
only he won’t, but there he is. . . .