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.