The structure itself has dissolved into a series of grass-covered mounds, roughly nine metres east to west and just under six metres north to south, with a narrow entrance gap on the western side. Scholars have suggested that what remains may be only the chancel, the liturgical eastern end of the building, with the nave long since robbed or collapsed away entirely. Around it, a circular graveyard roughly thirty metres across is defined by an overgrown earthen bank, still substantial enough in places to stand over two metres high on its outer face. A handful of late nineteenth-century headstones cluster near the southern perimeter, the most recent visible signs of a community that once gathered here regularly.

The setting adds a quiet layer of strangeness. The site lies on flat, low-lying ground, and the southern shore of what was once the original South Wexford harbour sits only around 600 metres to the north. That harbour has since silted and changed beyond recognition, but its former presence explains something about why a church and its associated holy well came to occupy this particular corner of the landscape. About forty metres to the south-east of the church lies the site of St Michael's Well, where patterns were held on the 29th of September each year. A pattern, in Irish folk tradition, was a gathering held on a saint's feast day, combining prayer, procession around a holy well, and often more secular festivities. The association of this well with Michaelmas, the feast of St Michael the Archangel, was recorded by O'Flanagan in 1933, suggesting the practice had a long local memory even by then, though whether it still continued at that point is not entirely clear.