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.