run, girl, when the mountains come

some days the mountains come calling
wiping their snow feet all over the kitchen mat
holding a façade of gentle blame between their slopes

the rage built up behind their faults keeps you close
flecks of leather stuck in the bloodied back
as the cat of nine cracks the smitten blue from your skies

you need love like the rain
of blows across your face
in the dark of night
will never show you

drenched in contracts of the old gods
glistening over your Antarctic skin
get out from these mountains of madness
feverish or no
avalanche but move your feet

when you finally find fire
you must burn the future back
where it belongs