Matthew Kinlin's poem "Phantasmagoria" has been paired with an ensemble from one of Alexander McQueen's most proportionally experimental collections: 1997's Hans Bellmer-inspired "La Poupée, or, The Doll." Erotic, violent, and fantastically deformed, Bellmer's dolls exhibit a combined sadistic and masochistic impulse to dissolve socially-imposed boundaries. In Kinlin's "Phantasmagoria," the poem's terrifying doctor is linked to "teeth stolen from a marionette." The domineering medical authority is responsible for blocking a woman's mouth during electroshock therapy. Thus, a mother's daughter is reduced to a doll-like entity whose neckline bursts "into thunderstorms" and whose skin hardens into "soap wax." An unsettling poem that engages with the inheritance of tragedy and the perpetuation of masculine violence.
— Paul Cunningham, Editor
Phantasmagoria
i think the human race
is having a nervous breakdown, she said
and the doctor just nodded
and drew a spiral in his notebook
indigo marginalia of psychosis
knights and oysters and a winged heart
inside a room cleaned by immigrants
bleached into holy creation
he attached electrodes
to her freckled scalp
& she saw the white shape of mother
soft looping onion hands
rubber plug filled the mouth
- of a doll on fire! then the numbness came
like an animal trapped under a sheet
or a room expanding outwards
into petrified circles
the doctor smiled and peeled back
his Istanbul hair transplant
teeth stolen from a marionette
sent her home to the council estate
sparkling beneath jewels of seagull shit
(suicide as an impossible obelisk)
dazed, she took out the sewing machine
diagrams of a dress
patterns her mother had given her
two months before she died
contours of flesh turning inwards
hardening into soap wax
there were faraway stars that died
with each breath she took
as she unravelled royal blue silk
and soft copper tulle
ran an equinox through solid bone
her fingers blistered and raw
neatly, she died
amongst a snowstorm of lithium
sun coming up through glass
her smiling face turned to the wall
exact coordinates of unhappiness
a widow in ivory lace
dust spiralled above the dress
neckline burst into thunderstorms
silver-grey zigzag thread
around a keyhole in the exact centre
of a silhouette undressing in darkness
like a monster or a shark
phantasmagoria, deep dreams
of a dress exactly like this
on a daughter exactly like her
that smiled and saw
every stitch yields new sorrow
every button is a lunatic
Matthew Kinlin lives and writes in north-west England. His published works include Teenage Hallucination (Orbis Tertius Press, 2021); Curse Red, Curse Blue, Curse Green (Sweat Drenched Press, 2021); The Glass Abattoir (D.F.L. Lit, 2023); Songs of Xanthina (Broken Sleep Books, 2023); So Tender a Killer (Filthy Loot, 2025); and Beyond Grandeur & Other Stories (Anxiety Press, forthcoming 2026). His collaborative works include: Psycho Viridian (Broken Sleep Books, 2024) with Callum Leckie; The Getaway Spar (Anxiety Press, 2026) with Tom Over; Oberon's Zoetrope (Submersible Press, 2026) with Kenneth M. Cale; Spirit in the House (Modern Alchemy Press, forthcoming 2026) with David Kuhnlein; and Box Office Poison (Future Tense Books, forthcoming 2027) with Nate Lippens. Instagram: @obscene_mirror
