The anaesthetic is wearing off now. The chopped-off sexes lie on the silver tray. One says I am a weapon thrown down. Let there be no more killing. Another says l am a thumb lost in the threshing machine.
Bright straw fills the air.
I will never have to work again. The third says I am a caul removed from his eyes. Now he can see . The sixth says I am safe. Now no one can hurt me .