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.