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.