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.