I'm wondering if this very fine sonnet isn't by Catherine Chandler. I also have a guess as to who's writing the commentary, but I'm not going to stick my neck out.

No criticisms here. Just wondering if anyone felt the need to know the name of the second twin (the iamb), since the first twin, Ann, is named in the poem. Would that enhance the poem, or ... maybe it doesn't matter? (Of course, that would also partially identify the writer of this poem!)

Clear, well paced, psychologically believable, and on a theme that hasn't been done to death. Uses quirky rhyming to advantage. My favorite so far.

Well, it’s an interesting collection so far, and I have no favorite yet.

Has everyone accepted the “missed” of L2 and “dismissed” of L6 as rhymes?

If “I” is the weaker part of “Iamb”—supposedly the meter and not the actual word—then is “Ann” the “amb” part? And why not a trochee? (Though admittedly there is only one in the poem as it is written—unless it be an anapest, as Wells believes.)

And how is the second beat [of an iamb] still waiting to be found?
I’m not sure it works on both levels.

I did sorta like the "the eyes of ultrasound," once I figured it out, but the single ear is not so successful, since the doc does still use both ears to hear through it

Marta

Marta --

Here's how I'm reading the poem --

There are twins, and we know one twin is named Ann. The name of the other twin, the second one to be born, the speaker in the poem, is an "iamb" -- two syllables, with the accent on the second syllable. (That's why I asked earlier whether anyone felt the need for the second twin to also be named.) The beat of a heart is also an iamb.

Well, if Gail is guessing the poet by name, I'll join in. My guess is Julie Stoner, though I don't recall her using this many slant rhymes before.

I'm not sure I'd say the poem is about the "darker side of twinship," as DG puts it, since presumably Ann's sonnet on the same gestation would have a completely different slant (assuming Ann doesn't entirely dispute the shadow she casts on her sister).

I still have no nits, but if I struggle to come up with a nit, no matter how nerdy, it's this: If the weaker heartbeat is "trailing" the stronger, we're dealing with a trochee, not an iamb. It's interesting to wonder how the poem would be affected if there were no prosodic references in the title (as there are none clearly stated in the body of the poem). I still think the title should stay, but I'm not sure it's utterly essential. Perhaps it's too much poet inside-baseball, and I'm wondering a bit if readers who don't know what an iamb is might be unduly confused.

But no. I think the poem is perfect as is.

Spot on, Roger! I absolutely admit to having written this! For every possible minute that I can get away with it. When are the authors unmasked?

I'm going to be really disappointed if I find out that her name isn't Uma, which was my best guess at puzzling out lines 11 and 12.

Then again, first-person narratives aren't always autobiographical, so I can imagine it's "Uma" to my heart's content.

[Edited to say--Or maybe Emma?]

[Never mind. Then the poem might be titled "The Trochee".]

[Actually, the stronger beat does come first, as described in the poem, in a trochee, not an iamb...but I'm probably being overliteral. Again.]

Ah, this sonnet... One thing I can say is that the iamb was poignant to me on many levels. The phrase is rife with meaning, starting with the basic idea of being the faint beat behind the stronger one (*waiting behind the stressed one) and moving toward the hope of being able to stand up and say, “I am.” I think of I am that I am as a holy way of not only thinking about God but also the sanctity of life-not only the strong, but love and care for the weak. Giving voice to the voiceless. The eternal I am is indicated too, when it has no beginning or end. I don’t consider this poem religious; but the idea of lasting importance and strength being found in seemingly fragile individuals is present. Lovely.

This is so very, very good, the musicality of the sextet is sublime, I like 'still before' as it suggest 'still born' this is enormously clever and enchanting. Full of a deep meaning I for one need.

In order to satisfy the blood rhythm of the sonnet and the logic of the title, the second twin's name must begin with B. Otherwise there's no point in naming the other one. Is there, O clever and musical poet? (A poet who is clearly clever enough to be imagining this situation entirely, anyway.)

Is it not a little too soon to be guessing identities and naming names?