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.