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.