[Tracey Gratch]

I like this one, a lot. As someone who has given birth to twins and who was completely unaware that she was carrying twins until the 20th week of the pregnancy when it was revealed at the first ultrasound, this resonates. (Somehow, my son's heartbeat was not detected in there, behind his sister, who was then and continues to be the more dominant twin!)

Though my twins, now 9, would probably not understand this, I think they would relate, in time. Very well done, on many levels.

[Rick Mullin]

OK, but N seems more of a trochee, the unaccented behind the accented, as in accented comes first.

RM

[Andrew Frisardi]

oops, wrong thread

[David Danoff]

Encountering this poem under other circumstances, we would know the author's name. So I assume the reference to Ann would make some kind of sense (some kind of sonic relationship between the names, some kind of symbolism). If not, then I agree with the folks who've said that it's extraneous.

I'm also not that sold on the conceit here. It feels like one of those too-clever-by-half ideas (my sister and I are a contrasting pair, like the two beats of an iamb!) that doesn't quite work out. But you go ahead and hammer it into a poem anyway, and hope the seams don't show (wait, if I'm the soft beat that follows her strong beat...then aren't we a trochee?) (if a heartbeat has an iambic rhythm...then are two hearts double-iambs?).

It's well executed and there are some nice touches along the way, but I don't think the idea really holds together.

[Christy Reno]

This poem has some great things going for it. I think L10-L14 are nearly flawless.

I think a lot of the detail is extraneous though, and wonder if not in poetic poem, would read something like

That last year of the fifties, the doctor missed
me waiting there behind you. When he pressed
the stethoscope,
he dismissed
the second heart, my weaker beat, as just
a bouncing off, an echo trailing yours.

My sister Ann, defined and certain,
has always known which way her life was bound;
while I, a hesitation, then a sound
that never seems to finish or begin,
forever pause to check myself, to question,
that second beat still waiting to be found.

Something like that. I agree with the comment about the twin not needing to be named. She doesn't feel she needs to. Also in reference to naming the other one, I don't think it detracts or distracts too much. It could definitely be symbolic as someone else suggested, and I think it also gives a sense of identity to the twin who has a name. It might not be important if we knew the identity of the writer. I think it is a good choice though, if a made up one.

[E. Shaun Russell]

Well now we know why Elise kept asking about the name issue.

Nicely done, Elise. Very strong sonnet through and through.

[L.M. Price]

I don't think I said so before, but I rather like the first twin being named. It emphasizes another way in which the second one is behind.
Yes, congrats.

[Gail White]

I feel very stupid now that I didn't guess the author on this one. Those slant rhymes should have clued me in. Anyway, this was my favorite, so congratulations, Elise!

[Elise Hempel]

Thanks, all. I do feel a little bit guilty, like something of a trickster.... My name itself is an iamb, and I wanted to lead people in that direction! But I've always wondered whether my name should also be mentioned in the poem. It is mentioned in at least one other twin poem in my short series of them.

I've been talking with another Eratosphere member about "truth" in poetry, always an interesting topic. Of course, we all tell lies in our poems -- some big and some small. But in case anyone was wondering: Yes, I have a twin sister named Ann. We're fraternal twins, but we were dressed alike and called "the twins" for at least our first seven years.

Gail -- If I make it into the next bake-off, I know you'll know it's me!