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.