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.