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.