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.