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.