to taste the tips of falling valleys

to taste the tips of falling valleys,
the ridges, the cliffs, the pits of your fingerprints;
to map with mind your outline
through tongue’s lashing/
hands finding
curve in wander of your world,
your skin,
your prickled hairs goosen’d
and uplifted in
their quest, their raised longing for,
their worship toward
these hands, these lips,
all, in servitude, now yours