I must admit I was skeptical at the idea of "overload of kitchen imagery," but I was actually drawn into the kitchen. (And was glad you didn't use such things as cuizenarts and automatic whisks, for some reason)
Some things that didn't quite fit- monsoons (but you did tie it in with washing the forks and tropicalish fruit like papayas...). Zephyrs blanketing anything didn't quite click with me, but I liked what they then did with the knives. And the bit with the window cracked open is fuzzy. Where'd the window come from. Is that where the ice is from, or the icebox?
Meh.
I liked it. It made me feel. Perhaps I just read it at the right time (or perhaps wrong, depending on your POV), but I got a stong impression of a relationship rotted, or gone sour, which both work perfectly with your imagery, and weren't even images you used, which I see as a definate sign of skill.
Coolness.

You used the word petrichor. You are now my ultimate hero.
Your stylistic techniques awe me.
I've decided that your poems remind me of whispered dreams.
And this poem really struck a chord with me, I suppose for my own personal reasons.

WOW! I'm gonna go into a comma at how awesome your poems are, so I best just submit this review.
~Nymph