How could I have known, with lust besotted
That satan himself had forged those red lips
To singe my wings, to crisp me like a moth.
by Irving Layton (Canadian Poet, died recently, 2006)
for Paul, Paddy, Clink, Carleton, AJ Levin, Silas,
the patio of the Art Bar in Toronto, just had to do it.
(Those who submitted are in The Delinquent first issue Nov 27th)