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.