statuette                
                                          
  
                                 
                                          
 forests  around my childhood home. thick 
 pine  arcades  that   were  planted  and 
       forgotten. wild boars roaming      
 underneath, sniffing at  the  ground. it 
 is  dark  and moist,  the canopy  having 
 already   soaked   up   all   the   sun. 
                                          
 there's  a  river  passing by, from east 
 to  west, getting broader and deeper and 
 slower as it goes. equisetum  grow  just 
 where  the   pine  hands  start  to  let 
 through  light,  horsemint on the  rocky 
                river bed.                
                                          
                                         
                                          
 the  riverbanks reek  of  magic. tonight 
 they had been  a swampworld with  sylvan 
 water, stone  rings  and  floating moss. 
 you could've found  me  wallowing around 
 on  the  southern  shores  until  i  got 
                 bitten.                  
                                          
 but  now  i'm  further  back,  on  solid 
 ground,  in shoulder-high grass, with an 
 orange  tin  radio  and   a  translucent 
      umbrella which i'm sitting on.      
                                          
                                         
                                          
 somethings  moving  in  the grass.  it's 
 invisible  to  my  eyes  but  i can feel 
 through the ground just how large it is. 
                                          
 the  soil  is  muddy. i slip when trying 
 to  get  up,  still   looking   at   the 
 direction of  sound  rather  than  at my 
 hands, who  are  busy putting  things in 
                my pockets.               
                                          
 then   i   run  east  toward  my   home. 
                                          
                                         
                                          
 i am not followed, and  slow down in the 
 clearing  where  you at first  can  spot 
 the   house,   not  yet  really  in  the 
 backyard. from my pockets i  retrieve my 
 radio  (now  dented)  but also  a  small 
 clay  figure i've never seen before.  it 
 must have  been  laying in the wet dirt, 
 and  i must've  picked  it  up  with  my 
            other belongings.             
                                          
 it's a  statuette of a girl laying naked 
 on  her  stomach,  feet   in  the   air, 
   roughly seven centimeters long. it's   
 freshly  made, not yet completely dried. 
                                          
 my mom is here now.  i ask  her for some 
 particle  board  for it  to  dry on, but 
 she   is   worried   and  wants   me  to 
              throw it away.