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.