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.