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.