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.