Whitewashing History Against a Blackening Afternoon Sky

$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
Leafingthroughsecrets

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