My daughters have lost

two hundred and thirty-six teeth

and counting.

They possess so many skills: they can

craft sophisticated weaponry such as blow-pipes,

lances and slings and know what the sharp end

of a peacock's feather is for.

Last month they constructed a canoe

and saved the Purdu Mephistopheles from extinction.

They may not know that a bird in the hand

is worth noting but have learned

never to bleed on any of the auspicious days

and are aware that pleasure

is a point on a continuum.

I fear they will never make good brides,

they are too fond of elliptical constructions

and are prone to lying in the dirt reading

paragraphs in the clouds.

Their shadows are long.

They know many things, my girls;

when they are older I will teach them

that abundance and vulcanisation

are bad words.

When they sleep, they sleep heavy;

I go into their rooms and check their teeth.