This poem by CJ Evans, "Even the Smallest Paradise," impresses the hell out of me. I love the compression--love it. I love the way Evans focuses our attention in this narrative on the small trappings of order and decorum--and contrasts them to the larger symbols of change (and it doesn't seem like a good change) from the skies. The society that these trappings help symbolize is soon to be upset. Yes, we've all seen this scene in war films/action films dozens of times--often overwrought and often flavored with a hint of "They're about to get theirs!" But, here, we have Evans evoking something similar but more complex (do these people deserve what's coming?), in what, how long is this, 75 words? Wonderful. Thanks, Poetry Daily. And, thank you, Indiana Review.
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