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.