What survives is a rectangular shell roughly 27 metres east to west and just over 8 metres north to south, its eastern and northern walls worn down to sod-covered foundations, its western wall apparently rebuilt at some point rather than original. The graveyard has also quietly swallowed the church's former position: the 1842 Ordnance Survey six-inch map shows the building at the centre of the burial ground, but it now sits in the northeast quadrant, a small dislocation that hints at how much the landscape around it has been reorganised over the centuries. Near the northwest corner of the ruin lies a souterrain, an underground stone-lined passage of the kind commonly associated with early medieval settlement in Ireland, its presence suggesting this ground was occupied and modified across a much longer span than the church alone would imply.

The architectural fragments still visible within the ruin are quietly eloquent. Near the east end of the south wall, a piscina survives, a shallow stone basin used in medieval Catholic liturgy for washing the priest's hands and sacred vessels, here formed as a trefoil-headed recess with a chamfered edge. An ogee-headed window light has been reset into the inside face of the west wall, its curved profile suggesting late medieval craftsmanship repurposed rather than left in situ. A crossing wall runs roughly mid-way along the ruin's length, and this detail threads into a later observation: writing in 1863, W. Maziere Brady recorded that in 1700 the walls were still standing for the most part and that a partition wall ran through the middle of the building without any arch. Brunicardi, writing in 1913, proposed that the church may have been shortened when it was repaired around the late sixteenth century, a suggestion that would account for the rebuilt western end. By 1639, according to Brady's sources, the structure was already in ruins, so whatever repairs were carried out did not hold for long.