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.