Revisionist Poetry – “Temporary Geometry” – Uncertain Sculptures, v.4

By the river, I stack stones
because nothing here stays put
and I want to make something
that knows that.

The water moves.
The sun warms my neck.
My hands learn the shape of each rock
before I place it where it might hold.

A tower rises.
It wobbles.
It survives.

That is enough for me:
this small, unstable proof
that beauty can live
inside collapse.