LILY is an emerging novelist and short story author. After many adventures across the country and a successful run as a graphic designer, Lily decided to return to Winnipeg and plot her next move.
While she has never packed a gun, she has been known to use her sharp wit with deadly accuracy.
With several publications, you never know what may emerge next from this tough as nails Canadian while she explores the world of dark fiction.
Published Works:
• Eden Fell, Novella, Damnation Books
• Bleeding Apple, Short Story, Ethereal Tales
• Tearing the Wings, Short Story, Ethereal Tales
About my poetry: “All poetry has never been seen before by anyone.”
Editor’s note: I had the pleasure of reviewing Lily’s first novel Eden Fell, for the New York Journal of Books, so I felt it was quite a find for us to discover Lily’s previously unpublished poetry and share it here with our readers. Lily is a gifted writer, and these two poems are some of the finest dark poetry I’ve read from a new author. The refrain at the end of each stanza in Multiply is absolutely chilling, and her evocative words in Running are proof that some of the most enduring verse is that which is implicit and symbolic. ~ GVB
Multiply
My bones grow old before my time,
Sacs of flesh, the pale dry flesh,
Red drinks of wine, intoxicates me
You screamed quietly.
Soft my sweet, save your feline voice,
We have only lived three lifetimes,
Save your reaping, weeping willow,
I am already entangled in your branches,
And soon, soon,
We shall multiply.
My face wears an animated mask;
I do not wear my mask for disguise,
I do not wear my mask to hide behind,
My mask wears me as a costume divine.
Tricky as a snake, dividing now two,
Slithers inside and infects your apple core,
A fang slices and consumes us all,
Inside in and reverse it all out,
And soon, soon,
We shall multiply.
My hair is thick, sickening vines,
A crown of leeches,
In the shape of my lover, black widow, you
Fear not those icy thoughts,
I will not love you less,
When I catch your animal scent
And my tongue screams with painful pleasure.
Oh I will not love you less, but more,
And soon, soon,
We shall multiply.
My bones grow old before my time,
Burrs of years grasp my eyes, rosé tears
Breaks that crack down my mask;
Yet drink up my friend, three cheers for death
And if my bones inevitably turn to dust,
And my flesh holds nothing but ashes, then,
The myth of mind will breathe on and on,
And we,
We have multiplied.
Running
The child runs
Up the hills down the tree
Through your eyes and back to me
Are you running now?
Is it up to my head
Or down to my knees
Is to the tower
Or to the tree
The man runs
Up the plains down the tree
Through your eyes and back to me
Are you running now?
Is it up to my head
Or down to my knees
Is to the tower
Or to the tree
The old fool runs
Up the grave down the tree
Through your eyes and back to me
Are you running now?
Is it up to my head
Or down to my knees
Is to the tower
Or to the tree
Are you running,
To the tower or the tree
Are you running,
To the grave or to me
Are you running,
Are you going to run to me
Are you running,
Are you going to run to me
Are you running,
When you going to run to me.
