There is no standing wall, no carved stone, no visible outline of a nave or chancel. What the aerial photographs do show, faintly, is a curving ditch, the remnant of a graveyard boundary, and within that arc, nothing but ground. The church itself has not merely fallen; it has been forgotten so completely that even its site was recorded as unknown.

The place carried several names across the medieval centuries, which is itself a small clue to its age and shifting administrative identity. The scholar T. J. Westropp, writing in 1904 and 1905, gathered the documentary traces. In 1297, a Philip de Prendergast and a Henry de Capella were in legal dispute over tenements in Acmys, and by 1309 Sybilla, the widow of Henry de Capella, was claiming her widow's third of Akynnys in Ocarbry. The place-name appears again in ecclesiastical records as Keilchuain de Achinis in 1410, and then as Hakmys alias Kylcommon in 1418, before settling into Kilcoyn alias Haknis by 1615. The Irish element 'Kil' points to an early church foundation, kil being an anglicisation of the Irish 'cill', meaning a cell or church, often associated with an early Christian monastic site. Westropp also noted that the parish was united with Kilpeacon from early times, suggesting it had lost independent ecclesiastical standing well before it lost its physical fabric. His entry closes with two words: 'Site, Forgotten'.

The curving ditch recorded in the national monuments survey under the reference LI047-030002 is the only feature that remains legible, and even that is only visible on Digital Globe aerial photography rather than on the ground in any obvious way. There is no managed access, no signage, and no structure to reward a visit in conventional terms. What draws the curious here is precisely the quality of absence, a parish that generated legal disputes, widow's claims, and a sequence of name changes across three centuries, leaving behind a ditch and a bracketed note on a map.