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.