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.