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.