The moment 
that freezes the room
is the moment of choice.

The moment
when the weapon appears
is the whole point of having
the weapon at all.  

The moment
of using the weapon
is beside the point.

It’s the slowness, the enveloping
freezing of the moment
when the weapon is produced, as it
is seen, reacted to, feared —

as if the moment
was all there was,
no one moving before or since. 

You say that’s a fantasy,
the frozen moment, the no-blood
coolness ot the scene.
You say it’s not like that.

You say in fact that
that it sounds like too 
many movies, that it only
happens that way in a movie. 

Exactly —
at that moment,
the weapon makes a movie

and the hand
on the weapon
is the hand of a star.