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.