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.