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.