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.