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.