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.