The Ghost of Sebastian

Between a dried-out rubber band and a key

that doesn't fit anything I still own,

I found the sticker they must have peeled off me

before I was old enough to be known.

It’s a 'Hello My Name Is' from the maternity ward,

but the ink is a battleground of blue.

A heavy line cuts through the 'S' like a sword,

killing the boy my mother originally knew.

Sebastian was supposed to be grand and tall,

a name with a cape and a silver ring.

I ended up with something short for the hall,

a common, sturdy, and practical thing.

I wonder if he would have liked the rain

or if he’d be better at keeping his word.

I’m holding the sticker and feeling the stain

of a life that was cancelled before it was heard.