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.