Cadaverine Magazine

The best new poetry, prose and non-fiction from emerging writers under 30

We believe in showcasing contemporary, innovative and original new writing from the next generation of literary talent.

The Truthful Hours by Eleanor Ward

  I disclosed the facts: tenderly at first. It was an answer to all the beginning questions: A-level grades, missing years, walking distances.        Gradually, I poured illness into the corners of conversations, the night-time […]

May, 03 · in Poetry
Those are my own legs that are making the sand beneath rise in a muddy cloud around my shins and that’s my own team of rings spreading all kindly around me and welcoming me into the world of water, and my giant feet which I can no longer see that are making these tiny fish dash away in fear.

Lake Fearglass by Mark O’Donoghue

Those are my own legs that are making the sand beneath rise in a muddy cloud around my shins and that’s my own team of rings spreading all kindly around me and welcoming me into the world of water, and my giant feet which I can no longer see that are making these tiny fish dash away in fear.

Apr, 24 · in Prose

Faber New Poet 16 Rachel Cuzon – reviewed by Kyle Cooper

Poetry is how we say things we cannot normally say. A great deal in modern verse comes down to what lurks in the sub-text of a piece. In Rachel Curzon’s pamphlet, this external voice is […]

Apr, 29 · in News,Reviews
Those are my own legs that are making the sand beneath rise in a muddy cloud around my shins and that’s my own team of rings spreading all kindly around me and welcoming me into the world of water, and my giant feet which I can no longer see that are making these tiny fish dash away in fear.

Lake Fearglass by Mark O’Donoghue

Those are my own legs that are making the sand beneath rise in a muddy cloud around my shins and that’s my own team of rings spreading all kindly around me and welcoming me into the world of water, and my giant feet which I can no longer see that are making these tiny fish dash away in fear.

Apr, 24

Pulling up the drive by Maren Schiffer

Pulling up the drive   Conversation quivers in the chill of my sedan as gravel by gravel rolls back from wheels in timidity. Leather puckers lips against backs of bare thighs our innocence collision of […]

Apr, 23

Match of the Day by Matthew Fairhurst

This is a comfortable, or comforting, ritual: however long the day, the inevitable  it-got-worse   and requisite cynicism.   Forty-five years melded by folklore – a cloud of steam used to hang over the Leazes […]

Apr, 23

Fisherwoman by Lily Ha

Fisherwoman   she had come here at the peak of night, cusp of scarlet daybreak to find it drowning on the sandpaper shore – half-eaten mongrel, clothed in water lilies. she threw upon it a west […]

Apr, 23