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.