My daughter’s silence is the way
I know her best, because often the words or screams
or giggles don’t tell the story.

Rather it’s the looks without sound, a face
round with blossoming tears or
anger that snatches her lungs shut.

Those are the moments she needs me most.
She doesn’t cry or yell. It’s easy being a mother
when she just calls out for me.
The true test arrives when I can interpret the silence,
And I’m there.

Sarah Clayville’s work has appeared in the Threepenny Review, Literary Orphans, and StoryChord, among other journals. She is a Pushcart Prize nominee and currently works as an American Literature and Creative Writing teacher. Read her work at SarahSaysWrite.com or follow her on Twitter @SarahSaysWrite.