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.