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Click.
A gentle clamp-
ideas sealing shut. Sublime skull.
Thoughts settling into dendrite, like warm honey
grooving into the grain
of a wooden wand.
Twin to tip-of-the-tongue: amiss,
then found. Akin to, tip toeing barefoot across pink sand.
It sounds like, ears slipping under bathwater: a hush of velvet.
A single grain of moment when gravity relents
upon your thigh rising to climb.
Axon.
Synapse.
Chemical prayer to
filing cabinet. You’re no longer reaching-
you've found it. You’re rearranged now.
Light bulb blinks then steadies.
The process, a handshake
between dimensions.
The exact tic,
language lifts us
into the firmament,
an understanding.
N.J. SIMAT