by Bronwen Griffiths Filipp Romanovski Lily She remembers the lilies in the house after her grandmother died, the dizzy perfume, the fluted white blooms, the way the lilies stood out against her mother’s black suit. Snow Her dress is as white as the snowflakes falling outside the church. How pure she feels, pure as the unstained blanket of snow, her soul bleached clean. First communion; the wafer white as the skin of an angel. Satin She loves her white tutu, its satin bodice