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.