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.