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.