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.