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.