On the surface, this is a set of cooking instructions: peel, cut, dice, fill the tin, bake. The note under the title suggests it began as a freewrite on the theme of "pie," and the form is calm and practical. But the details keep slipping. The "thin skin" is "peeled back," the pieces are "stripped skinless, raw, soft," and the words "revealing" and "edge of truth" hint that the ingredient isn't fruit at all. The final stanza makes it clearer. The speaker "disposes the excess" and casually admits to adding apple "for flavor," as if disguising something.
The speaker sounds eerily relaxed, even cheerful, and that calm is what makes the poem unsettling. The "sickly sweet" air and the offhand "don't worry if the pie seems a little bit strange" turn domestic routine into dark humor. The poem suggests a body being concealed, though it never says so outright, and the chill comes from what's left unsaid.