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.