Gaps. by Jessica Daugherty

I ate the shame around my grandparents' dinner table,
watching small caskets go by through rosy partitions.

Grandma would say, “There are three worlds:
Us, the Divide, and the Other Side.”

I tried to show them the price of silence, where they grabbed
her hair and extracted the rosewater from the crimson kissed.

Still, they insist they've already paid.