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44 THE MINNESOTA REVIEW MARGARET GIBSON ILLNESS AND IDLENESS All those I love are far away. Last night the moon was full, tonight it brims. Amado mio, I have no familiar voices heregentle Po Chu I, Colette: no music of the Chilean Resistance. It is not good to be alone at night without these other voices, although no voice equals or dims the even dark unwritten thrum in my slowed blood. Why have I turned from your arms, from music of the revolution, inward? My sleep is dark, steep. I'm obscure, a slender thread gathering force, a ginseng. ...

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