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.