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.