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.