Passing the rusty unknown chassis;
its motivation gone, its carcass was
was dragged into a clump of weeds—

What saint strained so much,
Rose on such lopped limbs to a new life?

A saint's bones, are the same as ours
weathered by a myth and barred from
returning to the wild,

where, an other than-human being
runs for cover, seeing humans are
more than what they look to be.