My Last Poem

By MICHAEL CATHERWOOD

is quiet and bright along
the edges, is a beast of silence,

grips a wooden cane
where in the daylight it taps

its way among the stones
and puddles. There is no pain:

wind and branches and blue
lakes. The beauty of silence

scrubs clean all doubt, clears
away the brittle leaves
                                   on sidewalks.

 

 

[Purchase Issue 29 here.]

Michael Catherwood‘s books are Dare, If You Turned Around Quickly, Projector, and Near Misses. He’s a former editor at The Backwaters Press. Recent poems appeared in Misfit and As It Ought To Be. He’s a cancer survivor, is retired, and lives in Omaha with his wife, Cindy.

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

My Last Poem

Related Posts

A window on the side of a white building in Temple, New Hampshire

Dispatches from Søgne, Ditmas Park, and Temple

JULIA TORO
Sitting around the white painted wood and metal table / that hosted the best dinners of my childhood / my uncle is sharing / his many theories of the world / the complexities of his thoughts are / reserved for Norwegian, with some words here and there / to keep his English-speaking audience engaged

November 2025 Poetry Feature: My Wallonia: Welcoming Dylan Carpenter

DYLAN CARPENTER
I have heard the symptoms play upon world’s corroded lyre, / Pictured my Wallonia and seen the waterfall afire. // I have seen us pitifully surrender, one by one, the Wish, / Frowning at a technocrat who stammers—Hör auf, ich warne dich! // Footless footmen, goatless goatherds, songless sirens, to the last, Privately remark—