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.