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.