She Isn't The Thing

Some of us around the fire Trading lies to feed the night Underneath the Bancamp floorboards Something scratched beyond the light Muddy footprints by the speakers Pink hair caught beneath a chair Momoha said, “That proves nothing” Like we hadn’t seen her there She tapped twice against the floorboards Something underneath tapped three “Pure coincidence,” she told us Then she moved her chair by me Momoha says, “You can’t prove anything” While something in the dark begins to sing It knows her footsteps, knows her name It eats the songs we never saved Momoha says, “You’ve got this wrong” Then feeds it half an unfinished song No, she isn’t The Thing—that much is true She’s just the one it listens to It lives on rejected endings Broken bridges, missing stems It can mimic every singer But it never sounds like them When two eyes appeared behind her She just gave a bored little shrug “Do not run; it thinks you’re playing” Far too useful to be luck She tapped twice against the floorboards Something underneath tapped three “Stop behaving like it’s hungry” Momoha said—not quite to me Momoha says, “You can’t prove anything” While something in the dark begins to sing It knows her footsteps, knows her name It eats the songs we never saved Momoha says, “You’ve got this wrong” Then feeds it half an unfinished song No, she isn’t The Thing—that much is true She’s just the one it listens to We asked her if she’d named it She said, “Names are how they stay” Then the thing beneath the fire Whispered “Momoha” anyway Momoha says, “You can’t prove anything” While something in the dark begins to sing It knows her footsteps, knows her name It eats the songs we never saved Momoha says, “You’ve got this wrong” Then feeds it half an unfinished song No, she isn’t The Thing—that much is true She’s just the one it listens to By the time the fire was embers There was no one left but her I heard Momoha tap the floorboards I heard something start to purr As the rest of us went running She stood smiling all alone Momoha whispered to the darkness, “Come on, Thing. We’re going home.”