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.