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.