I look down at the stomach 
that was never really flat. 
The mound where all the babies were kept 
showing itself more these days. 

I was once told that the uterus is a muscle. 
It grows with each child.
Each time left slightly larger than it started. 
Never retreating completely. 

This mound of muscle that I carry 
was made of five inhabitants. 
Three live with me now. 
Outside my womb, inside my home. 

But two never took breath. 
They are easy to forget some days. 
And then I look down at the muscle they built. 
The soft curves that mothers around the world try to hide. 

Those two I still carry in the muscle they helped build.