The Tinfoil of Turin

or, The Rosy Shroud, A premature Phoenix"

"preheat to 400, reduce to 350"

The unliving carcass is plucked
from the still radiant fire
shrouded in dull shining alumina,
laid upon the board.

At the appointed hour,
the shroud is pulled away,
and amazement falls
upon the assembled guests.

"Behold, an image!"
And there was an image.
A mystery, or a message?
A portent, or lesson?

None could tell.
And none have come forth
to solve the mystery.
What do you see?