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.