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.