She appeared on Earth from a nearby star,
invented a myth about needing to leave
the soles of her feet unpainted (to breathe),
then went out looking for some kind of work.
For a while, she stood overlooking a harbour,
holding aloft a flaming torch, then did a stint
in the Tate (as an example of modern sculpture);
became a novelty turn (for a time) in a brothel.
She acted in a few films – though never as leading lady,
cameoed in adverts, novels, television plays and a poem.
Later, she was eulogised in a not-very-good song
and has been given over fifty names, none of them her own.
She’s been an elegant car bonnet ornament
and has started a new religion in an Oriental town;
was the insignia for a secret army regiment
and is, at present, molten, awaiting a new form.
The Silver Woman
Copyright © R J Dent (2004)