Two days I have been clearing junkAnd now I find a memory,A cardboard-gilded reliquary.How should one feel before the bonesOf saints? Ecstatic aweFrom admiration of their deeds,Or mourning for their early deaths?I - both. Two brittle sealsOf rubber guard the holy writ(One snaps and slaps across my wrist).Now lift the lid in stately hands,And crown…