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.