On A Hot Day, I Sweat

They say don’t sweat the small stuff
But of course that begs the question,
Of what, to sweat, is big?
The oceans and the sky
Are big by global standards,
Lake Michigan from a rowboat,
Your cock, if it’s in my mouth.
My orthodontist said I have a small mouth,
So definitely don’t sweat it.

Our house is bigger than their house,
But smaller than the white house,
Whose breaker box is bigger than my box
Unless I’m giving birth, in which case
Mountains might be molehills,
For those shoulders passing through, and yet,
Birth is only big when it’s happening to you—
Like death—it’s a common enough contract
With a one hundred percent guarantee. Still—
They’ll say our sun is not a big star,
But it means the world to me.