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.