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.