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.