100 Degrees on Summer Solstice
︎︎︎ Maura Ford
︎ JULY 23, 2022
I fell asleep with lake water in my hair,
gritty ropes of it splayed out on my pillow
I fell asleep at the table trying to eat my dinner,
a girl again, letting the adults chatter and hum
I fell asleep at four in the morning
my heartbeat drumming, eyes gradually losing dilation
I fell asleep without thinking of you,
released from that heady reminiscence
I didn’t know I was allowed to feel like this—
happy without salt on my tongue
I’m relieved of that unquenchable bargaining
for more and more and more and
I fell asleep satisfied that the day is done-done,
knowing that I became this to become something else
gritty ropes of it splayed out on my pillow
I fell asleep at the table trying to eat my dinner,
a girl again, letting the adults chatter and hum
I fell asleep at four in the morning
my heartbeat drumming, eyes gradually losing dilation
I fell asleep without thinking of you,
released from that heady reminiscence
I didn’t know I was allowed to feel like this—
happy without salt on my tongue
I’m relieved of that unquenchable bargaining
for more and more and more and
I fell asleep satisfied that the day is done-done,
knowing that I became this to become something else
Maura Ford is a writer, among other things, living in Chicago, Illinois. Born and raised in Chicago, she studied literature in Dublin for four years. She loves Bananagrams and bananas, in that order. Find her @iwantsomeMaura on IG.