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.