PARLOUR - The Horn by Hadiru Mahdi

#5 in a series of blogposts from VulpesVulpes reflecting on their AirSpace Gallery Residency activity for  PARLOUR

I

In a box beneath a pistol

split in two, brass too

with fixtures also, rendering

the gun a wall piece ornament

it never worked though this may still.

You found a horn

Brass plated circular bulb

curving inside itself

would have fit a car, just that

not yet Vintage

and quacked and quivered to warn

or signal or jeer

It's torn leather pump at rest

is true to form but pressed

useless. Let us return it

II

Removing the pump and

pushing air past a split brass reed

the junk shop guardian can make it sing

He asks for 5, I would offer 2

to settle on 3 or 4

but we will pay the full. For the laughter

song and dance

translation and smiles of his embarrassed

tortured son

III

On a quest to repair

we make the days of three thrashers

who at our improbable request

are at a loss. Though the last

knows a man who may know

Go south. Cross railway tracks and

carriageways to the old town. Climb

a hill halfway then turn left and curve

around. He makes and fixes winds

and brass, plays just to test. Is

surely, I say, worth an ask

IV

He can yes, offers first a Rave replacement

not realising its jest. Something less

apt but more suitable is whittled on

hand restored lathes. We insist

there is artistry in his handling

and shaping of hollow grounds

and holes for sound

V

Reformed a new horn and symbol

of what comes from walking

and following leads. Now it

can fill airspace, start races

With time and training on

proper embouchure

in this Centenary year it could play

the Last Post, for example

to commemorate what we struggle to praise

or alert or serenade