Angela Kwon, In Safe Hands, 2017
Digital media

When her body  trapped beneath the car fell still,  when the  walls
of  her suffering  softened and  cleared, what  passed  through her
was  not  exactly a tongue,  not exactly a tune,  but  it  rang, if you
can call what it did ringing, and bore her up, held her, in what you
could   call   arms,   and   bade   her   look   upon   the   scene:   the
desperation with which he threw himself to the ground, the harm
he  then did to the earth  with his hands  and voice to dig her out; 
but  it  wasn’t  until she saw the children  sitting  by the road that
what had fluttered in her body finally spoke
            not exactly a song, or a moan, but a distant flung sound.    


Tim Carter