The poem plays on the idea of a "queen-sized" bed, but it turns the phrase into something stranger and more unsettling. The first lines suggest people who are being handled by others, perhaps nursed or cared for: ribs "under other people's hands," unable to dress themselves. The speaker says "we," so the voice seems to belong to more than one person, or to a group sharing the same helplessness. Calling themselves "queen that we were" mixes a bit of pride with a sense of loss, as if that status belongs to the past.
Then comes the king, and the tone shifts. The joke that he is "a bad bed" is dry and almost comic, yet it leaves a chill. The poem doesn't say what that means, so the reader has to guess. The mood is wry, uneasy and quietly sad, a small joke that hides something heavier underneath.