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.