Whitney Houston Pronounced Dead at 48
[Young nun latest to self-immolate in Tibet]
Cloud as profile, profile as cloud, so
lovely that even the 1980s glow
like a girl on detox.
Song as skeletal
bathtub treasure, a boy I know, I dream of.
What is it then to be on fire, to rocket
lucky forward? You were sexless
(almost) but when you weren’t
the whole sky sighed soprano.
Body as bureaucracy, body as scandal,
stay in our arms if you dare.
Your sweat, your smile, your always always
never, all at once.