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.