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.