Wednesday Writing Prompts: If my girlhood bunk bed could talk

by thereisnosurvivorsguide

Rough. Draft.

If my girlhood bunk bed could talk

When I first arrived, I, entirely disassembled,
clanky, awkward, fragments
blood-red inside
a giant rectangle box
Their mother had ordered me new
and not together I understood
that I was somehow different from
the secondhand kitchen table and the
plaid chair that was great-grandma’s
before she became second-
handed off to the nurses in the home.
The first night the tall girl pushed
me and my big box
across the room
blocking the door, with the flash
light on my side. I didn’t understand.
Then he came in. He opened the door and
knocked into my box and the heavy
light fell onto the tall girl
who was resting with her back against my box,
so tight against me, like a someone cornered against brick
in an ally way, no place left to run.
The short girl under her arm.
He laughed. A laugh that shook me and I clanked.
“Is this for me?” He asked. I still didn’t understand.
Later, together, I understood.
That laugh like a reverse aftertaste, for
shadow. Dark.
Me, metallic and crimson,
supporting the bodies of these young girls,
but useless. I came with a guardrail
for the short one who sleeps on top
but for the tall one, nothing. An oversized exposure
extending out beyond her sister’s crib.
I am nothing.
Cold metal. Blood red.
I am her witness
as he returns night after night.
I try to shake free,
to gather the strength of the little girl
our first night together when she shoved
and yanked my giant box
but I only wiggle myself loose, clank,
and drop my bars on her
the nights
she actually looks peaceful, safe there,
finally asleep.

– – –

Prompt:
Personify or animate a building. Choose a subject from a project you have been revising.

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