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.