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.