Ripping Out Pages

Ripping out pages
  plucking them one by one
  —leaves or days—
  of my life and the
  leaves on the tree outside
  are a dying generation
  this Winter—every Winter…
And life is a prayer
  formed with the lips of a lifetime
  of slow time, of waiting to die,
  and the act of dying is just like
  saying “amen,” and I
  took the hymnal and I’ve been
  ripping out pages…