Eighteen
in gematria is a nine.
Numerology is silly.

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Friday night I lit one candle
(not two though my mother I'm sure didn't think of it this week, nor the last nor the one before);
Last night I watched the stars flicker and dance as long as I didn't focus on one at a time
and tonight I read about Leah's eyes under a new moon,
stained my fingers red with pomegranate
one seed for each star.
The flesh I have saved: some to eat
the rest to mix with the crumbling leaves
of what promises to be a bitter winter.