by Alexis Brunstedt Some memories stay sharp because they mark the beginning of a quiet rebellion. This poem is about one of those...

by Alexis Brunstedt There are stories folded into the names we carry—histories we didn’t choose, inheritances we continue or rewrite....

By Alexis Brunstedt Not every Valentine’s Day is red roses and handwritten cards. Sometimes it’s silence. Sometimes it’s the ache of a...

by Alexis Brunstedt There are moments in life when we are swallowed whole—not by a literal fish, but by circumstances so vast and...