Camden Queen

for amy winehouse 

She crashed through the bar,

Spilling words like discarded notes.

A star,

Bigger than her hair,

On the rebound from fame:

Fake lashes, fate-weary eyes,

As if they’d asked life for a loan.

Still walking tall

Despite all.

‘She hits people’, you said.

Headlines too.

Most nights.

Bodyguards there

For what she might do,

When love’s not enough
To reason why.

I thought she was going to zap us over the tapas,

But she just whispered “Hi.”