poet Thom Gunn

Thom Gunn

Baby Song

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.

Topic(s) of this poem: birthday

Poem Submitted: Wednesday, December 3, 2014

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Comments about Baby Song by Thom Gunn

  • Luigi Coppola (9/18/2016 9:51:00 AM)

    typo in L4 - Where it is warm and wet and black?

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