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.