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.