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.