Fructus Ex Machina

God may not
play dice, but pays the jackpot.
God out of the [fruit] machine,
to demean His name, knows what

bluff to call:
spins Earth like a roulette ball,
lets Satan lunch on lemons
to demonstrate numbers fall

how He wills.
No matter what wit or skills
we deploy to disable
the table, so our stake spills

on the floor:
three church bells ring the top score.
God may not shoot honest craps,
but perhaps wins at the door.