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.