an applied study of astronomos
you return with cheekbones
filed away by the wind.
as fresh, bird-boned jockey
on a rib-wrought horse.
staring out of a seaside house,
we wait for the moon
while our skin turns to thin milk.
a curdled froth of wave
is cradled in sea glass.
i clean your backbone
with a barbed tongue.
there is dough in the kitchen sink
doubled over, heaving.
you pat it the way you would a child,
knead it the way you would my hands.
i watch the sky unfurl as liquid amber,
each cloud a held breath,
a measure of its weight.
the branches of the maple cast
strands of copper wire across our yard.
i am left standing at the door unmoored,
set free to wild in the even hours.
Maya Bergamasco is a senior English (creative writing) major at SUNY Geneseo. She enjoys playing Ultimate Frisbee and petting dogs. Two of her poems are forthcoming in the 2017 issue of The Susquehanna Review.