Baby

Does the sprinkle of baptismal holy water feel to a baby

the way the rush of a storm surge feels through

broken levees; quiet in their ferocity– 

then all mouth and tongue and young teeth?

Aligned like crooked shotgun homes down Flood Street

water, like saliva, rushing through the 

corridors connecting the monoliths, 

one thousand feet of broken and breached,

like Christ born, turned upside down.