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.