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.