Brother gets transferred out of solitary and swears Jesus planned it all

The letter that arrives already opened, already redacted
says we may finally get a call at Christmas this year.

I don’t ask, What is Christmas to a Rabbi anyway?
Where is Bethlehem to a city kid?

Where were the wise men when we also needed gold,
would have settled for myrrh?

I don’t ask why no one in B Unit knows Jesus was born in August
because it’d be a mistake to blame this on Jesus, anyway—

even if brother swears by the Sermon on the Mount now,
says the whole world is a moving star, a specifically appointed clearing,

It’d be a mistake not to say, “I know, brother. Mine too.”