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.