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.