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.