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.