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.