What survives is barely legible as a building at all: uncoursed, roughly shaped limestone rubble forming the outline of a nave and a narrower chancel, the walls reduced in places to little more than a low, irregular scatter of stone. No carved detail remains, no window tracery, no decorated doorway. A two-metre breach in the north wall may once have been an entrance, and a gap at the western end of the south wall is a candidate for a doorway too, though neither is certain. The church sits alongside a graveyard containing headstones from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, with a modern extension added to the west.

The structure is classified as a probable early medieval church, a category that places its origins somewhere in the period roughly between the fifth and twelfth centuries, when small, single-cell or nave-and-chancel churches built from local stone were common across Ireland. The nave here measured approximately 10.75 metres east to west and 7.5 metres north to south externally, with the chancel slightly narrower at around 5.5 metres by 5.6 metres. The two parts appear to have been built at the same time, since there is nothing in the fabric to suggest one predates the other. Nearby, in advance of house construction on a greenfield site opposite the church and graveyard, archaeologist John Kavanagh of Icon Archaeology Ltd carried out test excavations in 2008. The trenches turned up a single narrow gully, a fire-spot, and a plough furrow, none of which yielded datable material. The ground gave little away.

The site's setting is worth noting for its own quiet strangeness. A ruined early medieval church usually occupies elevated ground or a conspicuous knoll; this one sits on flat land, entirely exposed, with no natural feature drawing attention to it. What remains is absorbed into a working landscape, the graveyard still in use beside walls that have long since lost any readable architectural character.