by Red Cedar Review | May 4, 2022 | Volume 57
Issue 57 I want (anthropocene) Max Gillette Your hands in the wet cement of me. Max Gillette is a third-year English major at Central Michigan University concentrating on creative writing. They are a member of the English honors society Sigma Tau Delta and the...
by Red Cedar Review | May 4, 2022 | Volume 57
Issue 57 the smell of sweet potatoes b.i.w. I decided to make lunch today pulled out a box of sweet potatoes from the farmer’s market on the first cut, my amygdala shudders— I am 12 again putting orange colored cubes in the oven for the fourth time that week: ...
by Red Cedar Review | May 3, 2022 | Volume 57
Issue 57 Elegy for 8251 Short Cut Rd Jordyn Damato You, my friend and my enemy, were my first home. You smelled like cigarettes and a wood burning stove— and when I hid under my bed, mothballs. My sisters and I threw noodles on your head, testing to...
by Red Cedar Review | May 3, 2022 | Volume 57
Issue 57 A Father’s Voice Marena Benoit Uncle Dicky is collecting all the beer cans strewn around the living room in a five-gallon bucket. Getting ready for target practice. The cans tinkle against each other like a tin kaleidoscope, as he slings the bucket...
by Red Cedar Review | May 2, 2022 | Volume 57
Issue 57 To Twenty-Twenty and Beyond Aviana Irrer So much visible to the naked eye, I don’t feel the moniker fits. Rather, the world feels so full; a closet I can’t help but match and mix. Dressed head to toe in clothing, so different from the...