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.