Rosebud By Adil Musabji

The Rising Phoenix Review

June 1

Rosebud

How many suns have set over the prairie?
Untouched, rolling grass dappled with stones,

countless compared to the ones over concrete
bridges, speckled with faceless cars.

When I was young, I always thought we only
had gas stations, abandoned buildings,

industrial things. In field trips and away
matches, I glimpsed the life of the north and west

suburbs, artisanal stores on corners,
smiling people – you could smell the wealth even

in the tar. We only had gas stations, well,
we had grocery stores too, nothing fancy though,

pushing the cart for my mother in Cub Foods,
eager for small microwaveable pizzas,

I didn't know what was in them and I didn't
care. I now check the ingredients, I drop off

my children to school on well-kept roads, passing
by green coffee shops – lost in this life of color.

But sometimes, like during a sunset,
I remember – binary, gray, chain-link fences,

almost lifeless, cold as an empty parking
lot with cracks, the ones that won't get fixed,

when winter is over, weeds will grow within them,
I see the lonely shopping cart, pushed to the snow
–
and I smile.

Click here to listen to an audio clip.

By Adil Musabji

Biography:

Adil Musabji's poems have been published in the Rose-Hulman Quarterly, the Layla Journal, al-islam.org, and Prairieview Poetry. He studied electrical engineering and law and currently works as a patent attorney. He resides in the Chicagoland area with his family.