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.