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.