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.