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.