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.