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.