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Séamus Isaac Fey: California Poets Part 7, Two Poems

Séamus Isaac Fey

July 1st, 2024

California Poets: Part VII

Séamus Isaac Fey

Two Poems



It's glamour, it's Paris, it's New York, I say of my friend’s work.

I've never been to Paris or New York, only read so much about them


I've come to know the feeling— which is not


what I'd call truly knowing; knowing to the bone,

or with your fingers. I've thought about this a lot:


the spectrum of a lie. But how to be impeccable


with your word excludes variations of untruth.

I lied, when I said I'd put everything


you gave me away. I'm using the bookmark


right now, in my friend's book, the glamorous one. And you,

my other you, my friends hate you. I've sworn


I won't let you return, when you inevitably


slide back in, I'll welcome you in a quiet way.

Abandon myself at the table, just in case you


want the open seat. Let you drown


out Plato's true music: being tuned into your own

life so that your words may harmonize


with your actions. You, harbinger of discord.


Me, open ribs. Okay, as Nick says, I've looked

in the mirror as long as I can today.

December 30th


I use a lit match as a bookmark

and try not to call you.


The new year is pregnant

with bright lights, I see it.


On the screen, the button

by your picture is singing,


so I stop after one drink.

I’ve changed my name


and you may not even know.

Soon it will be legal. In a crowd,


you could yell to the old me

and I wouldn’t hear. What


does it matter. You don’t call

me anything. You don’t call me

Author Bio:

Séamus Isaac Fey (he/they) is a Trans writer living in LA. Currently, he is the poetry editor at Hooligan Magazine, and co-creative director at Rock Pocket Productions. His debut poetry collection, decompose, is out with Not a Cult Media. His work has appeared in American Poetry Review, Poet Lore, The Offing, Sonora Review, and others. He loves to beat his friends at Mario Party. Find him online @sfeycreates.


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