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.