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.