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.