There is no visible masonry, no graveyard, no boundary stone to mark the spot, only a slight unevenness in the pasture where the earth remembers something once stood. What makes this absence particularly striking is the name attached to it: Kilfeakle, from the Irish for the church of the tooth, a reference to one of the more singular relics associated with St. Patrick.

According to the Ordnance Survey Letters, compiled in the nineteenth century as part of a broader effort to document Irish placenames and antiquities, the foundations of the church were still legible in the landscape at the time of writing. The building was recorded as approximately twelve metres in length by just under five metres in breadth, modest even by the standards of early Irish ecclesiastical architecture. The surveyor noted that the scythe had passed over the very spot that season, the ground being used as meadow, and that there was not the slightest trace of a burial ground. The tradition attached to the name holds that St. Patrick lost a tooth at a nearby ford, and that the tooth was subsequently preserved as a relic within the church. Relic veneration of this kind was entirely consistent with early medieval Irish Christianity, where fragments associated with founding saints carried considerable spiritual and social authority, often drawing pilgrims and conferring prestige on the community that held them.

Today, the site sits in improved pasture on a low rise, and a field boundary that once ran east to west along the western edge of the monument has since been removed. The land is slightly uneven across that part of the field, but nothing announces itself as a ruin. For a place named after a saint's tooth, it has become remarkably easy to overlook.