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.