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.