The east wall has vanished entirely; its former position is now readable only as a slight dip in the ground and a pair of limestone quoins marking what was once the north-east corner. The west wall is similarly gone. The south wall is little more than a line of rubble. A cut-limestone fragment lying nearby, reused as a gravemarker, still carries a chamfered moulding that was probably once part of a window jamb. The building was roughly 18.9 metres east to west, and in its more complete days the south wall held what was described in 1932 as a widely splaying window of apparently native Irish character, a style of opening associated with earlier medieval ecclesiastical building in Ireland.

The church's documentary history is longer than its surviving fabric might suggest. It appears in the Papal Taxation of 1291, a Europe-wide assessment of ecclesiastical income that places this modest Cork parish within a network of church administration stretching back to Rome. By 1615 it was recorded as being in repair, still functioning as a parish church. Sometime before 1694, however, it had been abandoned. When a survey visited in 1984, the north and south walls still stood to around a metre in height and both retained their opposing doorways, each with a pointed arch and chamfered limestone surround, and the south doorway with a straight-set embrasure beneath a segmental arch. In the early 1990s the site was cleared of heavy overgrowth, but the restoration work that followed had an uneven outcome: the south doorway was rebuilt using stone taken from the north doorway, leaving the north entrance reduced to its lowest courses only. The intervention preserved one feature at the direct expense of another.

The church sits south of centre within a graveyard in Marshalstown, roughly five and a half metres south of a Church of Ireland building that still stands nearby. The ruins are low and much of the plan is now read from ground-level changes rather than standing walls, so it rewards a slow circuit rather than a quick glance. The reused gravemarker with its chamfered moulding, a small piece of architectural salvage that quietly carries the memory of a lost window, is worth looking for among the stones close to the remains.