over the evergreen summer meadow

" I am writing this as the clocks go back in Britain – our annual day of mourning."
Her short stories:
The Agony Of Intimacy
My mother said to me – ‘Don’t have sex with the gods.’
I said, ‘Why not? It’s an opportunity for a girl with nothing going for her.’
My mother said, ‘Look what happened to Daphne.’

I looked. Anybody who wanted to could see Daphne on the way home from school. She was by the side of the road, green and glossy. She had given Zeus the run-around, ridden in his car, gone to the movies with him, but when it came time for the kisses and the touching, her mother had always told her that good girls didn’t do that. Good girls couldn’t be god girls.
The White Room
The room is not mine.
One window frames an ash tree. One window lenses the world.
From the wide lens of your window I can see an album of ordinary life. There's a woman unfolding a music stand with metallic determination. She picks up a flute, begins to play, and soap bubbles of notes break against your glass. The music is floating but the woman is standing very still. The strange thing about her is that she is naked.