If God is the newest thing, the youngest
thing, as Meister Eckhart said, then look,
He’s here as my son hands baby Maggie
to the priest, who crosses her with water.
Like tic-tac-toe: she entered the O
of eternity through the mudroom of birth
and the next move is to X her fontanelle
with God’s good creature, water. See,
while she sleeps on, how fragile she is,
open to being pierced or blessed,
while outside the bright air trembles and a bell
starts clanging the whole sky to pieces.