The 3rd Mrs Trump
Kim Moore

When her smile slips from her mouth
when her face falls without falling apart 
when that shadow settles in her eyes
so her eyes become like the eyes of a fish
when she hides inside herself
and he turns with a smirk to the crowds
and we can't know what he said 
there is no way we can know what he said
and I'm there in her blue buttoned-up dress 
and can feel the softness of her gloves 
on my hands, there’s that old familiar weight
pushing on my/her chest once again
it's just like back then, in my old life
I/she does not move, I'm watching it
happen as if it's happening to another,
except it is, the people around me/her
see it and stay silent, I'm trapped in her/my
life and I'm rich, I'm so, so rich, and if I get out
it will only be back to my body, to my new life
to read the posts on Facebook by friends
saying she knew what she was getting into,
she must have known what he was like
before she married him, stopping short
of saying she deserved it, she/I deserve it,
you/me deserve it.