I’m long in the teeth
and there isn’t much time:
accusation always follows the cat.
My teeth scratch the floor.
One afternoon in your next incarnation,
the cat will come to the tiny door.
My fingers are itching,
the sand is pouring, the carrots are cooked –
there’s no room to swing a cat.
Nothing to do, but idle,
so much dirt I sweat carrots,
look, here, I’m willing to borrow a cat’s paws.
Nothing else to do,
but hang noodles
on the forehead of a cat.
My eye went with me.
My mouth is light.
Curiosity kills the cat.
Day 22 at Na/GloPoWriMo challenges us today to find an idiom in another language and use it as a jumping off point. I got a little mired in a hodgepodge of expressions. Cats, carrots, and time.