If I hold cliché in my hand
like an apple, will I fall
to its seduction? Dare I bite
the peach, perhaps an avocado,
or pursue the nubile temptress
dancing a bare finger’s tip
out of reach? It’s laughable
to think I might escape it.
The original roots still leach
the metaphor from the soil,
while I root about like a pig
snuffling for elusive truffles.
Each word I speak is mine alone;
each word I speak has been said before.
(July 28, 2018)
subtext 