The Moment When by Rob Elsby


the guitarist’s arm wheels 

to its zenith, a stop motion instant 

unreeling as beads of sweat 

rock then roll like quicksilver

down the singer’s spine.


Out here, finger tendrils stretch 

drawing energy from the air,

grounding static charge, arcing 

an overload strained through 

with burned metal and ozone. 

Half-closed eyelids strobe-


shutter molten light, optic nerves 

circle, buffer, hot and feral 

animal scents surge, cut 

with knowledge 

laced with anticipation 

whole bodies becoming an ear 

waiting for contact with the drum 

waiting for the beat to come.