Joval

Scratching of claws on mat
Far, near, there, here, leave, come,
Could I, should I, would I
Throw it once more, just once?
Relenting, I toss
Twisted rubber flies
Cascading, bouncing
Down the drafty hall
A blur - a streak - a dash called Jackie
Bounds down the hall erratically
Scrambling after the oval he calls his:
Jackie's Oval; Joval.

And yet dim horizons beckon inexorably
Hell's unavoidable voice declares inescapably
That I must depart through mountain and valley
Into foreign darkness, inexplicably
A final lick, a kiss goodbye
From my snow, my beacon, my hope
A final circuit of Joval
A final loving glance up
“Tomorrow morning, Jackie.”
“Good boy.”

Tomorrow morning,
Gnawing numbness settles
Dread inescapable
Did he? Why, why did he?
My beacon, my beacon…
Relentless, this loss
My deep fears that spry
Through mountain and valley
Just so I may fall
My own hell that takes obscure form
Sometimes a place, others a mere man
Has made me kneel, keel and reel
It left its distance and came near
It exploited my one true fear
It found my snow, my beacon, my hope
Taking form as recklessly used steel

A misty morning beholds my beacon
Bearing with him just two alterations:
The crimson stain which mars his snout
And his ashen tail, for once still
A puddly pit we opened in earth
Muddy clods of soil held him
Among toys, blankets and socks
So many socks, he sits, he sleeps - he dims

My beacon dims, and dark tendrils twist home.

When cardboard asserts a certain scent once more
And the time comes to flee grief once for all
My hell trickles in, and takes its final form
That silly Joval; his misshapen ball
Left with none to catch its toss
And left unburied, out in the cold
A small token of my loss, a talisman;
A memory to place on my shelf, gathering dust
For so many years to come, so many years...

Gathering dust doesn't mean unloved;
Gathering dust means only untouched
And now, my... no, his Joval is coated.