In the mornings, I rise from bed, spreading wide the curtains, clean my teeth, poop, clean my body with descending water, descend down the stair runner that drapes the spiral stairs in a faded red, and walk into my kitchen, my delicate feet plying cocobolo floor.

It’s large, aged, with windows tall and wide - enough to flood my brown eyes with blue view of a deep lake surrounding our home.

Inside, my daughter eats a small bowl of bran flakes with whole milk, squeezed fresh from our neighbours’ goat the day before.

She is a teen, and today, her and her boyfriend parted from each other.

It was a clean breakaway; the lovers detached.

That makes boyfriend number 17.

She’s interested in polyamory, a romantic relationship with more than one partner and the consent of all partners involved.

She believes everything is about sex.

Who’s having sex. Who’s being sexed. What their sex is. Is the sex coming often. How much sex and how sexy.

Are they sexy? Do they deserve the sex?

Could they be more sexy, and how for sex?

Out Out sex. In Out sex. Out In Sex. Sex sex.

Bad sex? Good sex. Sex songs. Sex moves. Sex in twos.

Why did they have sex? Is sex allowed?

How come that sex? Is there any more sex?

When does sex start? When does sex stop?

over-sexed

under-sexed

enough sex

is it sustaining, labouring, all encompassing, sex?

a thrilling, thundering, fleeting, sex.

ailing, paining, draining, sex

a middling dribbling sex

gearing endearing sex

mental-mental gentle sex

tentacle enteral sex

Sex about it.

Hide from sex.

Right sex. Wrong sex.

intersex.

The most inte-resting thing is sex, dad.

Is there anything left if we remove sex?

She asks.

And I trust her judgement in sex.

I believe her.

My daughter is smart.

I love her.