Before Dawn

By Oliver Kleyer

Before dawn,
I don’t have a name.
It normally reappears with the sunrise,
preferably on the railroad bridge,
overlooking the town where I work,
but fortunately, not live,
sometimes starting the O,
sometimes with the i.
Before dawn, you could call me anything,
there is a 50/50 chance I might answer.
Before dawn, I sometimes think my name
is Adam & there is no one there
to prove me wrong.
Sometimes dawn comes in a cup.
Sometimes dawn doesn’t come at all
& I am left to wander around,
not even knowing how to talk to myself.

Oliver Kleyer is a teacher and poet from Northern Germany. He teaches German as a Second Language in a refugee camp. His works have appeared in ZINDaily, Suburban Witchcraft and Bulb Culture Collective as well as in the last three FromOneLine anthologies and 100 Poems for the 21st Century.
His poems “A rambling meditation” and “Van Diemens Land”, both published in “Raw Lit” were nominated for “Best of the Net”. 

Find him at: @funnyfrogget.bsky.social