Poem of the Week: 'Baby Song'

Another poem by Thom Gunn, the American poet whose poem, 'Blackie, the Electric Rembrandt', I posted a couple of months ago...

A first person narrative from the point of view of a newborn baby, it argues passionately that, now it has been born, and left the comfort of the womb, things can only get worse...

'Baby Song' by Thom Gunn

From the private ease of Mother's womb
I fall into the lighted room.

Why don't they simply put me back
Where it is warm amd wet and black?

But one thing follows on another.
Things were different inside Mother.

Padded and jolly I would ride
The perfect comfort of her inside.

They tuck me in a rustling bed -
I lie there, raging, small, and red.

I may sleep soon, I may forget,
But I won't forget that I regret.

A rain of blood poured round her womb,
But all time roars outside this room.