Gloss Notes on a Kitchen Scene (after Raymond Carver)
Gay Brewer
The slits in the crust
normal enough in another context
here indicate lacerations.
Ditto for the burned sugar.
Bruises. And steam rising
from the cuts, this is a woman's
helpless anger. The situation
we know is a hot one.
Therefore we know the woman
in other ways. Her simple act
of baking we find excruciating.
Her black sunglasses
do not indicate blindness.
Nor addiction. You could argue
sensitivity to light, yes.
But hiding battered eyes
we can only imagine. Her father
meanwhile silent at the table
blows on a bite, forks it in
like the moment's inevitability.
He's taking this one piece
at a time. His resignation
hints at familiarity. Why do we
assume the parent is the father?
The pathos of his silent
answer. This is hard for him
to swallow. Love makes it worse.
His for her, hers for some other.
A winter morning whips the house.
The wind speaks for itself.
Sunlight, its comfortless vision
supplies a final irony.
The bitter apples. Sugar, spice.
