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.