"You peck like a bird,"
he says disapprovingly, as he dips the toast,
all of his and most of hers, in the hot tea.
She quietly slips a square of toast into his plate.
It is not true that she has such a meagre appetite
or he such a large one, and they both know it.
But it is one part, a necessary part,
of the complex ritual of belonging,
this transfer of food from her plate to his.