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.