The black tie

Dad brought out the black tie again.
Seems like I've seen it every week this month.
He stands in his underwear at the sink to bathe, as I look for him in his usual spot.
Instead I see the black tie.
The bathtub has become too dangerous now, since the fall cut into his leg with the tap.
The black tie has its usual friends, the black trousers, the black blazer, the black socks, the black polished shoes and the white shirt.
The shirt and blazer are hung up on decades old hangers made of metal and wood, so they don't crease.
They've been friends for decades. Like the green paint on the walls which he cannot bring himself to paint over as my late sisters memory holds on to every brushstroke.
His old spice perfume is still in the bathroom cupboard but he uses the modern ones now.
He slowly dresses and asks me to put on the black tie for him. He says do I look okay. I say, very smart, and he slowly walks down the stairs that are getting too much for him.
I hung fly paper up because the land is filled nearby with trash but dad took it down. This is an act of cruelty to him.
I listen to them flying around, waiting for us to look away so they can tickle and lick me at there will. They filled the hoover last night and maggots took over the kitchen floor. I clean it while dad was out, clogging the bath with black water and maggots that just wouldn't go away.
Soon dad returns and heads straight to bed. I don't tell him about the bathroom. I just keep trying until it is scrubbed spotless. I go to the kitchen and see the black tie lying there on the black trousers and the white shirt waiting to be washed too.
Then I wake up, hang the black dress on the metal and wood hanger, have a bath and go to see Dad in his suit with the black tie.