The Karma of Sardines During Lent

What did these poor souls do
in their last life
to be forced into a tight can,
covered with oil
and sealed in tin,
then closed
into the deeper darkness
of a small, cardboard box--

words of memory
only translations
of ingredients
in English,
Norwegian,
and Japanese

Buried,
not at sea,
but instead
on whole grain bread
made at home
by an amateur baker
only to be ingested, crushed,
bones and all,
and smothered
in hot sauce.
Just enough time
between another set
of fundamental classes
at the local community college.

Better that, one might suppose,
than the poor chicken
across the table
wrapped in a flour tortilla,
shredded and tossed
with mayo, organic spinach-
forced to lie down
with Vermont cheddar,
before an eager professor of writing
devours it all,

only after apologizing
to the vegetarian
sitting nearby,
poking fun
at her attempts
to order the universe.

Who knew
sardines--
these silver-toned beauties--
could carry the karma
of light, of forgiveness
so simply in their small bodies
all the way from the watery depths
of another confession
to the smile on a man's mouth
to enlightenment
and back
again,

and yet,

again.