Interior

Humbaba’s sixth aura
was given to the forests;
I read this on the train

and note contrails in the sky
marking off
our path to the city,

with just enough time to scan
a prospectus
on the Lex Ave property.

A weight
presses down
like buildings on Manahata bedrock:

could you dig a hole
deep enough
to find the ghosts of trees?

Some trees are here,
in odd places –
London Plane and Callery Pear

on Stanton and Eldridge.
Small community gardens.
Of course,

Central Park: an island
set in the onrushing
sea of progress.

Humus – trace
of forgotten woods –
far below lifts our feet

as we buy and sell
and breathe air
old as legends.