No walls, no foundation stones, no visible outline in the grass. The site is, in the clinical language of archaeology, without surface trace, which is another way of saying that the land has swallowed it entirely.

What survives is mainly the memory of the place, preserved in two brief references from the early twentieth century and before. Writing in 1919, a local historian named O'Leary recorded a tombstone on the site, its inscription worn to near-nothing, with only the name Edmund Fitzgerald remaining legible. By 1967, O Murchadha could still describe the location with reasonable precision, placing the church on the left-hand side of the road to Fountainstown, but even then it seems the structure had long since disappeared. The dedication implied by the place-name, Kilmichael, almost certainly refers to Saint Michael, and the "kil" element is the Irish word "cill", meaning a small church or monastic cell, often used for early Christian foundations. Beyond that, the historical record goes quiet. No founding date, no order, no further names.

What remains is a field, a compass bearing from a crossroads, and a single name on a stone that may itself now be lost.