The bed sandwiched the child
sleeping in the servant’s quarters.
She wiggled left and right,
reaching for the mattress’ edge
any edge she could reach
before she lost her tiny strength.
She had hoped to slide out.
She had hoped to pull herself free.
Sweat dripped from head to toe.
Tears built a storm inside her head.
Would calling even help?
Did anyone know if she could speak?
Exhausted, she called out,
not a word uttered, just a shout.
Her mother ran in.
She screamed at the sandwiched bed,
tore it head from foot.
Her mother held her close,
rocked her with frightened tears.
She looked up to her mom.
Hungry bed ate me up.
She looked up with a smile.
Funny hungry bed.