Peanut Butter Fetus on my Teacup

There is a 

peanut butter 

fetus

On my 

teacup

On my 

teacup  

that is in the 

sink 

On the side 

of the delicate white

Teacup

That is waiting 

to be washed 

in the sink

Her limp body 

Is blood 

speckled 

From the 

Teaspoon 

I used 

to scoop

Raspberry Jam

A mustard 

blob of still 

birth 

floating 

Fragile

On the side 

of my 

Teacup

It is 2am

And all 

is wonderfully 

still,

As i peer 

down 

into that steel 

sink

Her thumb in mouth

She is curled 

up in rest 

My  eternal 

mustard 

Dreaming 

Fetus

Hovering 

Above the 

teacup,

Eyes wincing 

At her strange 

fragile 

body

Lying 

Still on the bedspread 

of my 

Teacup

And I the nurse 

with my 

blood 

Stained 

dress

Quickly

I wash my 

Teacup

I watch as her body 

slides

Like fluid from

the porcelain 

Still

In the sink

I can hear 

the early morning 

Train

As my Peanut butter 

Fetus

She is washed

Like 

Off 

milk

Down 

the

                       Drain