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.