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.