House of Glass and other poems by Ioana Cosma

House of Glass what in the name of a rose requires a respite from awesomeness and youth is the thing that nags like a disk on replay now and then the daylight of my skin. the first creases, almost invisible. then it gets thicker and deeper like killing ivy. the other day, I saw thisContinue reading “House of Glass and other poems by Ioana Cosma”