san francisco by Eugene Ruggles

I give you back your bridge.
I have driven her too long
without feeling the tides
in her steel, her robes.
I give you back your hills
and parks that rise together
into islands of green cloth
that line my one coat.
I give you back the full pockets
of that one coat.
Where the wind is drinking
from the waters around your ankles
I give you back this small room
I breathe from,
beneath the cathedral of your voice.