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.