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.