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.