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.