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.