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The Map<\/strong><\/p>\n Under the pavements I\u2019ve hidden <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Chloe Stopa-Hunt<\/strong>\u00a0 has twice been a Foyle Young Poet of the Year, and won the English Poem on a Sacred Subject Prize in 2010. Her poems have appeared in journals and anthologies including\u00a0 Magma, Oxford Poetry<\/em>, and Best British Poetry 2013<\/em>.\u00a0 This is her website.<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The Map Under the pavements I\u2019ve hidden My map, drawn in black and carmine, Saved for my daughters. The lessons In reading it were secret ones, held early In the morning: they swore on pain of death To keep it between the three of us. The land flushed with light as I […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6456","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6456","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6456"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6456\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6458,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6456\/revisions\/6458"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6456"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6456"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6456"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nMy map, drawn in black and carmine,
\nSaved for my daughters. The lessons
\nIn reading it were secret ones, held early
\nIn the morning: they swore on pain of death
\nTo keep it between the three of us.
\nThe land flushed with light as I wrote
\nUpon it\u2014the trees sprouted incalculably vast
\nBlossoms, though it was already autumn.
\nPeople said it was the second coming,
\nThe end of the world: why else should we
\nBe graced with beauty like it? I wrote a book
\nExplaining that everyone likes to be called
\nBy the right name, and they burned my book
\nIn the city squares, and the trees bloomed
\nAgain, it was spring as you dream of it,
\nNot as it comes. And during the winter,
\nThe weather was no warmer than usual,
\nOnly more fragrant\u2014as if I\u2019d asked for
\nSomething in return, as if there were love
\nIn the map, not greed. Under the pavements
\nMy daughters are reading the map, they
\nWhisper it into each other\u2019s ears and
\nWait for the world to be swamped with
\nUnseasonal blossom, the smell of me.<\/p>\n