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.