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.