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.