Doppelganger

She drinks tea obsessively tonight
out of her teal mug
that is chipped at the bottom

like a gap-toothed grin
it smiles up at her as steam
rises to fog the lenses
incased in thick black frames.

Her stubby fingers gently remove
the delicate thread
from tea bag's top

a severing of umbilical chord
blood gushes from the beholder
until the pouch is deflated
and its guts lay helplessly
on the operating table.

Her thick fingers move swiftly
repacking the bag with
earth's dirt and twigs and leaves

hurriedly pining together
the self inflicted wound
sewing with rushed complacency

birthing the doppelganger
for her sweet chamomile
that her pudgy hands
drown effortlessly
in the teal mug's depths.