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.