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.