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.