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.