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.