Another Place

These people whirl and gabble
while my mind, unravelling feeling
skirts round 
my home, my man
culled by a swirl of air, a crooked foot.

My mother is there, brother, gran,
their lives a two-week 
span of heaving a boxed past
into fast forward 
earth deep-cut, rock
close-cropped, a stony compass point.

Here: outside, unsound,
I am a broken joint
cracked by longing, unsurrounded
by you.
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