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.