$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
Author Bio:
Keith Hoerner (BS, MFA) lives, teaches, and pushes words around in Southern Illinois. No stranger to lit mags, he is published frequently. Also the founding editor of The Dribble Drabble Review—his webzine was recognized in the Int'l 2021 Webby Awards as well as being a Best Microfiction 2021 winner. His first book (a memoir titled The Day The Sky Broke Open) was recently published by Adelaide Books, NY/Lisbon; a second book is forthcoming from Adelaide in Spring 2022 (a collection of short stories and poetry titled Balancing on the Sharp Edges of Crescent Moons).
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
Author Bio:
Keith Hoerner (BS, MFA) lives, teaches, and pushes words around in Southern Illinois. No stranger to lit mags, he is published frequently. Also the founding editor of The Dribble Drabble Review—his webzine was recognized in the Int'l 2021 Webby Awards as well as being a Best Microfiction 2021 winner. His first book (a memoir titled The Day The Sky Broke Open) was recently published by Adelaide Books, NY/Lisbon; a second book is forthcoming from Adelaide in Spring 2022 (a collection of short stories and poetry titled Balancing on the Sharp Edges of Crescent Moons).
RSS Feed