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.