deepundergroundpoetry.com

It's Sia!

It's a bird.
No, it's a plane  
 
No, it's a woman  
 
Singing;
 
spinning a propeller  
between her teeth  
 
It couldn't be Jamie Oliver  
despite the fact  
I'm our chef-failure in chief  
 
It couldn't be the dog whisperer  
or the super-girls  of Nanny-911  
although my little brood  
jumps and nips  
 
No, when we go to bed  
joy comes when we dance and clap  
 
with Sia!
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