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.