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.