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.