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.