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.