It is the tallest stone in the burial ground, which is not saying much: it reaches just under half a metre in height. What sets it apart is a natural hole, roughly eight centimetres across, worn through the rock near its top. The rest of the surface is featureless beneath a heavy coat of moss, giving no obvious clue as to why someone, at some point, thought this particular stone worth preserving upright in consecrated ground.

Holed stones of this kind turn up with some regularity at early church sites across Ireland, a pattern noted by researcher Sheehan in 1982. The proximity of a church immediately to the north of the graveyard fits that pattern neatly. Whether the stone predates the church, or was incorporated into the site because it already carried some local significance, is not recorded. Writing in 1992, Ann Swinfen described the stone as having two holes rather than one, a discrepancy that may reflect weathering, closer inspection, or simply different readings of an ambiguous surface. Her broader suggestion was that such stones were connected with ancient curative superstitions, a plausible enough idea given how frequently holed stones elsewhere in Ireland and Britain were associated with oath-taking, the passage of the sick or newborn through the gap, or the sealing of agreements by the joining of hands through the opening. None of that can be confirmed for Poulnalour specifically, but the stone sits quietly in its graveyard context as a reminder that early Christian sites in Ireland often absorbed or tolerated older ritual objects rather than clearing them away.