By Amy Cotler
If I could hold anything in the palm of my hand it would be you. This tiny version of you would be old, soft to the touch. I’d stroke your tiny, bald head while you stood still in a gabardine suit and minuscule sneakers with yellow soles.
I’d carry you to my ear to hear you speak in your microscopic voice. You wouldn’t say much, but would cling to the edge of my lobe singing sea shanties to put us to sleep. Then you’d curl up inside my right ear. I’d always sleep on my left side, so as not to crush you, until one night, when I would dream of a man, just my size, and roll over in my sleep.
Amy Cotler was a leader in the farm-to-table movement, and a food forum host for the NY Times. After her career as a food writer and cookbook author, she turned to creative writing. Her short pieces have appeared in various publications, including Guesthouse and Hinterland. Cotler lives in central Mexico, with her husband, an artist, and their rescue standard poodle, Remy.
For previously published work visit: http://www.amycotler.com/offerings/
The Birdseed 