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.