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.