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.