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.