If You Will It

If you need to hold me tonight,
come, I’ll be swaying down
on Willet Street.

To a merciful God you won’t believe
in, language I’ll conjure from
memory, on the spot.

The unknown faces you don’t believe
in, a melody I’ll awake
to, ready or not.

Fears of that infinite once believed
in, rocks in bassinets,
a little if a lot.

If you need to kiss me tonight,
come, I’ll be stinking there
on Willet Street.

Exilic. The a capella lullaby,
toasting pigeons for what
they never got.