$10,000 down
Gets you in
Your choice of
Ranch or two-story
In prestigious Nooning Tree
“Is there one, a Nooning Tree?”
“Of course,” the saleslady answers
Loose strands of hair catching
The corner of her mouth
Like a lie
Tempered by talk of tradition
She motions; I follow
Slipping on the deceptively
Green sod
Outside her display home
She points, arm outstretched
Fingers fanning
In a ta-da moment
“There …
The Nooning Tree”
Under that very shade (weather permitting)
Noon meals were served
To plantation workers
Every day
Quaint, now, isn’t it?”
Yes, if
It were true
If *only* it were *true*
For a few of us
Still know fact from fiction
About this suburbanized
183-year-old black walnut
Its gnarled branches
Leafing through secrets
Midday laughter filtered
Not
Through this centurion’s autumnal rush
Frenetic excitement hung thick in the air
Frozen families, slack-jawed gawkers, jeering landlords *gathered*
On what is now
Premium
Lot 241 (backing to woods)
Where a barbarian’s buffet
Was laid
Bulging
Blood-shot eyes
Subtle smells of rope-
Burned flesh
Slaves *lynched* on the strike of *noon*
On a *tree*
On
A
Bountiful
S t r e t c h o f L a n d
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