Poem and artwork by Billie April
Mold moved to a habitat unknown
it began to split.
I unravelled, slipped on, different body, different person, name.
Mirage, I put on shows.
Bounded up the hierarchical to Queen.
Which body was mine?
Returned to place of my birth, a religion I chained myself to once.
But this was not home.
Returned to the linear, the expected, the binary.
Lines and lines and lines: no destination.
Swap and slip on,
this brand, these locks, correct colors
Paint on and lock in softness,
So many things and ways not to be.
I’m irrelevant here.
But I could not squeeze into mold again.
I did not believe.
I am curvy, curly, wavy—unrefined.
Futuristic and from centuries ago, crossing boundaries—unexpected alien.
I am boundless.
Such a thing as a body could never hold me.
Swap and swap and swap.
I am my own god.
Billie April is an aspiring writer, and artist working in theatre, film and events. She grew up in North Wales, UK, studied Sociology, and trained as a counselor. Billie fills her time with dance, yoga, and creative pursuits.