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.