A New Lady

Elegant, she asks me if
I like to dance.
I feel awkward
and move away.

Visitor? No I live here.
She tries to talk to me person to person,
but the place has a hook in her flesh.
I can just glimpse the wound.

I don't know what
to do with the wounded.
I think they are
in limbo,

slipped outside the boundary
of free life.
It's especially hard
with the fresh ones.