I climb into my

my abyss from her womb; no
mother

only a receptacle
a holder, place
holder for a lived, single one, a one for whom older mistakes, an even older emotions
will be avoided, shunned

mother, place me in
on a vacant empty
apartment,
a place as where Jose Rodriquez lived

off University Avenue, South West Bronx
No heat or light
No water or furniture only
empty vials of crack

everyone has their addictions
mine is climbing back into your womb