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.