PEDUNCLES

Hey, y’all.

For Day 27 of National Poetry Writing Month, the prompt is to:

Write an “American sonnet.” What’s that? Well, it’s like a regular sonnet but . . . fewer rules? Like a traditional Spencerian or Shakespearean sonnet, an American sonnet is shortish (generally 14 lines, but not necessarily!), discursive, and tends to end with a bang, but there’s no need to have a rhyme scheme or even a specific meter. Here are a few examples:

• Wanda Coleman’s American Sonnet (10)

• Terence Hayes’s American Sonnet for the New Year

• Ted Berrigan’s Sonnet LXXXVIII

If you’d like more specific instructions for how to get started, Write 253 has a great “formula” prompt for an American sonnet, which you can find here.

Here is my American sonnet:

PEDUNCLES

By Farah Lawal Harris, 2024

Static fills my right hip, crrrrsppppp crrrrsppppp!

Begging for a kiss, a loosening.

Despite her shallow roots, my Hoya Hindu rope

has grown peduncles—

Think of them as arms reaching toward the sun,

as worshippers who bloom flowers

I hear smell like cinnamon!

Soon, I’ll wear a bun.

This time last year, I was bald as a baby’s bum.

This realm is fun.

I will grow old like my paternal grandmother

who transitioned at my master number.

Venerating my deep roots, my soul

has grown peduncles.