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.