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.