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.