This Is How to Burn a Witch
“Selene’s Horses” by Audrey Holmes
You’re taken by surprise when you stop for a meal with your parents in a nameless New Jersey suburb, in an Indian restaurant where all the women wear soft pastel kurta-pyjamas. “He or she?”
A waiter’s voice snaps your head around mid-bite. His voice is loud, a syrupy Punjabi accent sticking to every consonant.
“My sister used to like to dress up and pretend to be a boy,” the waiter confides to your parents, speaking right over your head, “is that why she’s dressed up that way?” You stare at your knees. You do not cry. You feel hands that are not there, cold and clammy and pink, crawling up your thighs, spreading and pinching where your armor is not strong enough to protect you.
You’ll forget the man’s face, if not his words. You get on the subway with friends you met three days ago—somehow you manage to navigate the crayon-colored spaghetti that is New York City’s metro map— to East Village.
As you’re crawling from the soupy heat of the subway station, you pass a woman with peacock-green hair wearing the shortest black leather skirt and the tallest boots you’ve ever seen. Her face is made up like a warrior queen, and she marches at the head of a black-clad cavalcade covered in chains and spikes. In lieu of bowing, your jaw hits the pavement. It isn’t because she’s beautiful, even though she is. It’s because you finally get the point of tourists crowding the Statue of Liberty, standing a hundred feet tall, her green head held up high. She didn’t start out looking that way- it’s the saltwater that corroded the copper, broke her down until she was something else entirely, relishing the fact that people stare.
The looks here are different. They’re not the little pinpricks of disgust along your shoulder blades, but instead, small, approving nods that say, Hey, kid. I see you, you’re not the only one.
As you and your friends wander out of a bookshop and onto the pavement, a man steps into your path. You’re not a stranger to men invading your space, your day, and your life, but this man stops short of crossing that line. Somehow you can tell that he doesn’t want anything from you, isn’t leering down at you, is looking right at your eyes. He doesn’t smile, either, and he should frighten you. He’s all patches and grime, a walking mural of stitches and crooked cloth edges. You’d take your chances with the denim jacket that’s got to be as old as you are, patches layered over each other like platemail armor. He asks you where you’re from, speaks with a chainsmoker’s rattle. “Arizona,” you tell him, waiting for the raised eyebrow, the “Where are you really from, though?” It never comes.
“Here-” he instead reaches into his bag and pulls out a piece of yellowed paper laminated in packing tape. His weathered face cracks a grin when he hands it to you. It’s a sketch, a muscular woman with short, raggedly-cut hair, a sword, and battle armor. The drawing has no label, but you know who she is. Joan of Arc. The scrappy girl in men’s clothes. The witch, the saint, the martyr, the madman who was never a man at all. Flexing muscles that you don’t have, she wields the sword you’ve prayed for. They dragged her from her horse, stripped her naked. Repent. Dressed her in the right things, in women’s clothes. Recant. Burned her body to the ground. She frightened them. I can’t. They didn’t know what she was, and couldn't hear the voices that she heard. I won’t. You tuck Joan into your pocket beside your pen and notebook. This will have to be armor enough for you.
About the Author
Aeka V. Joshi is a South-Asian American punk poet based in Arizona. Aeka attends Arizona State University and is studying creative writing. When not writing, she can be found dancing badly at a punk gig, rewatching bad 90s TV, and taking long walks without a destination.
about the artist
Audrey Holmes is an artist who dreams and paints among trees in rural New Zealand. She uses sculptural forms and flowing lines to create rich, evocative images that explore and celebrate our connection with the natural world. She seeks to reveal hidden facets of this world and doorways to the otherworld. Audrey's work can be enjoyed on her website: www.audreyholmesart.com