It is roughly half of the lower portion of an octagonal basin, its sloping sides largely broken away, and at its centre runs a narrow hourglass-shaped perforation, tapering from five centimetres at the top to three centimetres at the base. That perforation is the clue to what this object once was: a baptismal or holy water font, the kind that would have stood inside or at the entrance of a church, serving a congregation that almost certainly gathered here more than a millennium ago.

The graveyard takes its name from the Irish Cill Éinne, also rendered as Cill Aighne, meaning the church of Aighne, and it is thought to preserve the footprint of an Early Christian foundation. Early Christian ecclesiastical sites in Ireland were often modest, consisting of a small oratory, a burial ground, and a handful of associated objects, sometimes a cross-slab, a bullaun stone, or a font. The octagonal form of this particular basin is a detail worth pausing over; the eight-sided shape carried symbolic weight in early Christian architecture, the number eight being associated with resurrection and new life, which made it a natural choice for objects connected with baptism. The font fragment was documented by J. Cuppage in the 1986 archaeological survey of the Corca Dhuibhne region, the Dingle Peninsula, which remains one of the more thorough records of the area's extraordinary density of early medieval remains.

The fragment survives in a graveyard that is still in use, which means the site retains a quiet continuity with its long history of burial and, presumably, of faith. The perforation at the centre of the basin, though now exposed to the air and stripped of any liturgical function, gives the stone an oddly purposeful look even in its broken state, as if it is still waiting for water to pass through it.