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.