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.