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.