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.