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.