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.