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.