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.