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.