This Room

The room I entered was a dream of   this room.
Surely all those feet on the sofa were mine.
The oval portrait
of   a dog was me at an early age.
Something shimmers, something is hushed up.

We had macaroni for lunch every day
except Sunday, when a small quail was induced
to be served to us. Why do I tell you these things?
You are not even here.

This poem originally appeared in "Poetry Not Written for Children that Children Might Nevertheless Enjoy," by Lemony Snicket.
“This Room,” from Your Name Here, is copyright © 2000 by John Ashbery and used by arrangement with Georges Borchardt, Inc.
Source: Poetry (September 2013)
More Poems by John Ashbery