Kol Nidre

It’s possible to love your enemies,
to love them precisely, innocently and
with a whole heart: Monica had two braids.
In my imagination one is as chestnut as a chestnut,
and the second threaded with silver strands.
But you all already know
how she cried for me
endlessly
and I only asked for a single cilium, an eyelash
to cull in the morning. That morning. When you smiled.
God doesn’t have braids like Monica’s, but
our missiles really, really resemble
the pieces of stone I used to shatter my neighbor’s windshields.
Is it worth it to once
harm even the eyebrow of a child? Be damned!
Ahhhh, even your love is cursed.
If you could just shatter that single window
and open the wide and sky sight
through which my dead observe my life.