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.