The poem opens with a blunt confession, "I am white," and then shows what that fact quietly buys. The speaker gets paid for "thin ice," something flimsy and risky, "made in an afternoon (by elves?)." The question mark in brackets is a wry joke: the speaker's work seems effortless, almost magical, as if someone else did it unseen. That hint of invisible helpers matters, because the last couplet turns darker. "Till a bed / bled my maid" suggests a maid whose labor, and perhaps her body or wellbeing, pays for the speaker's comfort. The sound play of "bed," "bled," and "maid" makes the line feel neat and slippery, which fits the speaker's unease.
Judging by the title and tone, the speaker feels uncomfortable about their advantage and a little guilty, but also half-mocking themselves. The mood is sharp, uneasy, and ironic. It's very short, and the gaps leave you to notice who does the real work while privilege gets the reward.