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.