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.