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.