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.