The speaker seems to be caught between two meanings of "home." The opening line names it, then the poem immediately tangles itself up: the speaker has "brought home with me / all the house," as if the whole building has been dragged along, yet still can't feel at home. The word keeps repeating, and each time it slips a little further from comfort. By the end it sounds more like a word that has lost its meaning.
The phrase "a sad geography" suggests home as a map of rooms, memories and habits that the speaker can't leave behind but also can't settle into. The speaker "thinking / to have found a home" admits a hopeful mistake, a belief that arriving somewhere would be enough. The final lines are the oddest: something has "gone somewhere else / as angry." It's unclear what has left, whether a person, a feeling of belonging, or the home itself. That uncertainty adds to the mood, which is restless, sorrowful and quietly bitter. The title, "Broken Home," fits a poem that is itself a little broken in its syntax.