Today’s Worku gives us CLICK, a tiny word with a lot of structural power. It can be a switch, a phone gesture, a camera-like moment, a final shutdown—or simply the sound that tells us something has changed. Diana uses that especially well: a comforting FLICK of the light switch is followed by the CLICK of nails down the hall, and suddenly the poem belongs to suspense. Mark takes the sound toward impermanence, ending with a dot fading into darkness. And Mick turns one innocent little click into the possibility of a shark bite. With a word this short, the strongest poems make the sound itself become the turn.